David Carradine’s Death In My Husband’s Newsfeeds, It’s Not Just For Breakfast Anymore

Hubby was reading to me from his newsfeeds about the latest news on David Carradine’s death, saying, “Rumours Carradine died attempting auto-erotic asphyxiation–”

I interrupt with a righteous, “Go old guy!”

Hubby, ignoring me (as most interrupted husbands are wont to do), continued to read, “– where victims achieve heightened sexual pleasure by restricting their air supply – are backed up by a quote a Bangkok police officer gave to British newspaper The Sun… urm.”

My response? “Well anyone who talks to The Sun can be trusted; it says so in the Bible.”

“Oh!” Pause. “Oh, no…”

“What?” I ask.

“Well, this one says, ‘Did David Carradine die as the result of a sex game? (with photo gallery)’ — but I don’t think it’s that sort of gallery.”

“That would be creepy-cool. Like, ‘Here’s Carradine getting blue…bluer… bluer yet…'”

This is when hubby has to make a choice: laugh at/with me, or leave the room. He laughs.

And I know it’s grim & rude to laugh at all of this; but remember, we aren’t laughing at Carradine’s death — we’re laughing at the coverage of it.

And it’s not like any of us didn’t already make the jokes about Carradine dying from Pai Mei’s Five-Point Palm Exploding Heart Technique.


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