Category: death

Ozzy Osbourne, Music, and Overreaction #PMRC #music #law #suicide #Ozzy #80s cc: @OzzyOsbourne

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I recently came across an article about 10 songs that wouldn’t work in today’s social climate. Sure, I’m kind of old (56), so for the most part, those songs didn’t bother me, but culture revolves around the young, so my opinions don’t matter. However, I never understood the stupidity of the objections to one song in particular that appeared in the article: Suicide Solution by Ozzy Osbourne.

I post this with no fear any of you will kill yourselves after listening.

Ozzy was famously sued for causing the suicide of one of his fans by releasing the song. (That was the dumbest sentence I’ve ever written.) The article seemed apologetic to those from the 80s and today who objected to the release of the song. The idea is that Ozzy is trying to advertise suicide as the solution to your problems. Moreover, there’s a part of the song where Ozzy stutters over the word suicide, saying, “Su, su, su . . . .” I remember the attorney representing the plaintiffs saying that it sounded too close to “Shoot, shoot, shoot,” which, of course, is how the fan committed suicide. Ozzy fought back saying that the song was about the dangers of alcoholism, which is a sort of slow suicide by way of the chemical solution of alcohol. (I know there’s some disagreement on whether alcoholic beverages are “solutions” or “mixtures,” but that’s not a concern of this post.)

So, who’s right? (I am right.) Well, form your own opinion. (Your opinion will be stupid unless you admit I am right.) Here’s the opening lyric to the song.

Wine is fine, but whiskey’s quicker.
Suicide is slow with liquor.

Do I really need to post the rest of the lyrics for you to understand what this song is about? Well, just in case . . . .

Take a bottle, drown your sorrows.
Then it floods away tomorrows.
. . .
Now you live inside a bottle.
The reaper’s traveling at full throttle.

Seriously, may I stop? While the other lyrics can be interpreted in a multitude of ways, they should be interpreted within the context of what you just read. Clearly, this song is about the dangers of alcohol excess. It’s actually a fucking public service announcement, but because a couple of parents couldn’t accept that the life they provided their child with a life he felt wasn’t worth living, they needed a scapegoat. That’s some serious cognitive dissonance, but their personal failings carried potential consequences for society at large, and ideas like this still swirl around in people’s insecure brains.

Of course, there could be even more to this argument. Suicide requires a complex combination of circumstances and emotions. No song could be causally linked to a suicide. Free fucking speech. But none of that should matter because the song itself is telling you not to commit suicide through irresponsible alcohol use. Ozzy knew something about this, as a fellow musician he knew had recently drank himself to death (so to speak). This song was absolutely the wrong target to attack.

I’m probably preaching to the choir among my few readers, but apparently there are still plenty of people who cling to this incredibly stupid position. Even my YouTube search warned me about what’s coming.

I don’t mind the phone number going viral, but I really don’t need the warning at the very bottom. Duh.

It’s worth reminding society of this.

If anyone’s even reading.

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While we’re on the subject, here are the most important lyrics Rush ever wrote.

Celebrity Deaths: Not My Greatest Concern #aging #death #celebrity #TeriGarr #RIP #travel

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Another day, another celebrity death. Today, it’s Teri Garr.

I never understood the concern for celebrity deaths. If you don’t know someone, their only value to you is the work they’ve done, whether in film, TV, music, or whatever. Everything they’ve done is still available to you. Sure, if they die young, then you know your’re missing out on what could have been, but that’s a selfish interest, not a concern for the celebrity in question. I have more to worry about than people who, because I don’t know them, can easily be replaced to the extent they affect my life. What do I have to worry about?

Towers 3 and 4 on the left were my home for 4-1/2 of 5-1/2 years in Chicago.

This weekend in Chicago was great. It really was. It was filled with nostalgia from my law school days, and allowed me to catch up with great friends. I saw the Commanders beat the Bears in improbable fashion while within enemy territory. However, there were almost as many discussions about bad news as there were discussions about good news. We discussed friends who’ve cut off contact presumably because of depression; friends who have had recent or current, serious health issues; and friends that have died. Not people I’ve heard of, but friends. Quite a few of them. People with whom I’ve dined, drank, and paintballed. One I should have married.

At my age (56), someone in my life dies every four months or so. The last one was July 16, which means November 16 is about when I should expect the next one to go. This weekend reminded me of that. That’s why celebrity deaths don’t bother me very much.

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Another Loss #death #dying #aging

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It seems like once every two or three months, someone I know dies. This is to be expected; I’m 56. However, some hit harder than others, and this is one of them.

In College Park, MD after the UMD-UVA lacrosse game.

Yesterday my friend, Robert Eugene Merlini, tragically lost his life (other coverage here, here, and here). We were fellow students at Good Counsel High School, which then was in Wheaton, MD. (It’s now located in my home town of Olney, MD.) We both went to the University of Maryland, but we never hung out there. Over 35 years later, Bobby and I reconnected via Facebook.

As an old guy, nostalgia is a big deal to me (see, e.g., my many posts on my return to 1st Edition D&D), and Bobby was very much a part of that. Because of him, I’ve recently been to a Maryland lacrosse game (both of us are/were fans, and I’m a former season ticket holder), hung out at bars, and I went to my first high school football game since I was actually in high school. He also is responsible for reconnecting me to our fellow Good Counsel High School alumni, both on social media and in real life. This was as important to him as it is to me.

After his mother died last year, which hit him pretty hard, he found a bit of joy starting his return to piloting commercial aircraft. He had a gig with American and was recently in Ohio for training. He was well on his way. He once posted to Facebook tagging me and several others as his inner circle who had his back during his tough times and his return to commercial piloting. I’m glad to know that I was able to do my part to help him along his way. I wish he could have regained those wings. He earned them.

RIP, Bobby

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Norma: Part II #RIP #death #FuckCancer

Frylock3 Comments

Yesterday, I posted about the death of my cousin, Norma. As I continue to parse out my feelings on the matter, I decided to supplement that post with a couple of other things.

First, with respect to the Frankie Valli story, when Norma and her friend disengaged from Frankie, I told her what almost happened. She reminded me that, while she was (of course) appreciative of my concern, she wasn’t stupid. She was an adult and knew what was going on and would never have gone anywhere with the guy. She understood that I wasn’t upset with her behavior but rather concerned with his, and that leads to point number two.

Everyone fights with everyone else. Everyone gets frustrated with everyone else. This is perfectly normal, and you shouldn’t feel bad about it, even in the unfortunate instance that your anger or frustration is the last thing you experience before losing someone. What isn’t normal? Norma never once made me angry. Or frustrated. I never even surreptitiously rolled my eyes at her. She simply never annoyed me at all, and if I ever annoyed her, she never told me so. This is certainly not a testament to my character; it’s a testament to hers. Plenty of people annoy me, and plenty more are annoyed by me. I’ve never heard anyone speak poorly of anything Norma did or said. She really was someone you couldn’t help but love.

RIP, Norma.

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Norma: A Consequence of Estrangement #RIP #death #FuckCancer

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I’m going to share a memory with you.

I don’t know if it’s my best memory of my cousin, Norma, but it’s the one that immediately comes to mind. Norma and a friend came to Chicago when I was in law school (1999 IIRC). We were barhopping in the Rush Street district, which was a popular weekend spot back then. Frankie Valli, a singer well-known for his small acting and large musical roles in Grease, was walking the streets, and Norma and her friend caught his eye. He was hitting on them. I was standing close by to make sure they were okay, which almost resulted in a fist fight with one of his security guards. He kept placing his hand on my chest, and I kept swatting it away. Everything worked out, though. That 60+ year old pervert didn’t get laid that night. Well, at least not by my 29/30-year old cousin. I didn’t follow him around. (EDIT: I added more to this story on tomorrow’s post.)

Last Thursday, Norma died of the same cancer that killed a handful of people in our extended family. I found out on Saturday and found her obituary at about noon today. The most difficult part of being estranged from one’s nuclear family is the loss of people who you still love. Norma was wonderful, and I loved her very much. She was only a year younger than I, but I could never imagine outliving her. I wish I could have said goodbye, not only to her but to a couple others who’ve died, but this is a consequence you sometimes must accept to keep yourself safe and sane. Leaving ties gives them a way to sneak in and do damage, and asking the ones you love to make a choice between you and the ones that harm you is not a fair thing to do. As far as I’m concerned, this is just one more thing they’ve taken from me. I’m a far happier and healthier person in general, but not today.

RIP, Norma Patricia. I love you.

Frankie will never mess with you on my watch.

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