The singer “was a virtual skeleton – barely eating and with only pills in his stomach at the time he died”, the paper said.
Imagine you are a coroner, crappy profession that it already is, your days are filled with horrible, bloody, disgustingly smelling, disfigured things that no one in the right state of mind would even want to be in the same building with, and instead of enjoying a nice sunny LA day you have to dissect a skeleton-looking, hairless, needle-ridden body of a weird celebrity. Not only do you have to chisel off the layers of plaster and artificial prosthetic parts, you for some ungodly reason have to cut his stomach open to see what he was eating before he croaked. It’s in the times like this that you must feel that you should’ve picked another specialty like a podiatrist or a proctologist, albeit their worldview is somewhat constricted.
That’s why I think every person should carry a card at all times with the contents of their stomach for the past 48 hours as a way to make the job of forensic pathologists just a little bit easier.
Let’s see, today my stomach contains:
- a cup of coffee
- cheese and turkey sandwich
- a orange/apricot jelly (from Bermuda) and toast
- some frozen yogurt from Yummo (mix of 3 flavors) because they don’t sell Korean tacos on Monday
- chicken patty
- a piece of dried banana
- salad (Caesar dressing)
- cheese quesadilla
- some lemonade
- a piece of Tippins coconut-creme pie
I think that’s it. There maybe some leftovers of this cinnamon roll from Barb’s Kolache Bakery in Shawnee from a couple of days ago
and just a little bit of the cherry kolache ( I gave the other ones away)
but that’s just being too thorough.
See this is not so hard.
Maybe your coroner will be grateful for not having to dig through your rotting guts and will not “leak” embarrassing details of your autopsy to the media. In my book, that’s just paying it forward.