Sunday, June 20, 2010

Negligent Homicide

The late Gary Coleman [above].

I've always considered myself a fan of Gary Coleman's. When Diff'rent Strokes went on the air, like everyone else I thought Coleman's Arnold Jackson was cute, funny and entertaining. I also thought it was cool that a kid my age could be on television. He seemed like he had it all. I actually first saw Coleman in a character role on Good Times as a wise-ass classmate of Janet Jackson's character Penny.

Yes, he seemed to have it all in the late 1970s and early 1980s.

Of course, we all learned better as the final two-thirds of Coleman's life were a nightmare. He lost most of his money through mismanagement by his parents [from whom he eventually was emancipated]. He couldn't get work in television and was relegated to the freakish edge of celebrity. He enjoyed somewhat of a rebirth with the invention of reality television which spawned the equally troubling genre of former superstars-turned-paupers doing rude things to one another and themselves, all for our entertainment. Still, Coleman's life was not great.

To me, he was a living testimonial of what I've always said: I'd rather be rich than famous. Coleman suffered perhaps more than any other 'star' [although assuming Lindsay Lohan doesn't kill herself in the next few years, she may give him a run for his money]. The indignities. The humiliations. A nightmare.

Then there was his health, which was worse. The kidney ailment that plagued him his whole life and resulted in at least two kidney transplants and three-days-a-week dialysis also accounted for his short stature. It was after returning from a dialysis appointment that Coleman - severely weakened, obviously - either fainted or tripped, hitting his head with what became a fatal blow. His bitch of a wife/ex-wife - supposedly sick in bed - asked the exhausted Coleman to go back downstairs after he'd managed to struggle up to bed - and make her something to eat. Dutifully, he did so. It was then that he fell or tripped.

Thus came a very sad ended to what - in most respects despite the fame and [when it was there] the money - was a sad life.

After listening to the now-infamous 911 call, however, I'm not sure that Coleman's injury was necessarily fatal. It sounds as thought the wacked-out money-hungry whore he was [or was not] married to simply allowed him to bleed long enough without helping him that - by the time he did receive medical care - it was too late. I believe that this bitch, Shannon Price, is guilty of negligent homicide against Gary Coleman. Why authorities are not pursuing this [other than the fact that it happened in Utah and those people are nuts] I can't figure out.

On the off-chance that you haven't heard the 911 tape, as disturbing as it is [you hear what ended up being Coleman's last words as he regained consciousness after the blow to the head], it is worth listening to so that you can say that you have now heard the most ambivalent, soulless, narcissistic cunt in the history of cuntdom.

As a brief aside: when did this 911 call release thing become OK? Naturally I'm feeding off it with this post but if it doesn't bother you that we're living in a country where nothing is private, not even your most frantic life-threatening moments, than you probably won't think that what Price did to Coleman [or didn't do is more like it] is that big a deal.

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