He's Keith Fenimore

I'm all for an experiment. I'm really all for an experiment where the results don't seem like they'd be all that exciting, but just might turn out to be rather interesting regardless of which way things turn out. And if I can do my part and have it count for a daily post, I'm in!


Here's the scoop: There's this guy. What's his name...um....hold on...oh. That's right. Keith. Keith Fenimore. Now, Keith's name might not be all that familiar to you (as it took me a full minute and a half to remember it), but his face just might be really familiar to you in the very short future. Meet Keith. Behold!

That's him. That's Keith. Remember that face because you're (hopefully) going to see a lot of it. At the very least, you're hopefully going to be hearing more about Keith. According to our friends over there at Asylum, Keith is "...pursuing his goal of being named "America's most recognized face." According to the article, the premise goes something like this: "to build momentum via various media platforms until everyone in America knows who he is." Apparently, wearing that shirt is part of his plan. (No, I don't know why the "I'm" is in the middle. Some unknown textile recognition implement, perhaps?)

I wasn't sure if I needed to know who one more person was in this world. I'm perfectly happy not meeting anyone else for the rest of my life (as so many folks turn out to be bat nut crazy). But since I don't actually have to meet Keith, I figured this was an experiment I could totally get behind. (If he shows up on my front porch, however, deal's off.) And he's not even going to TRY to get me to like him. He just wants me to know who he is. As he puts it "To be recognized, I don't need people to like me. I just need them to see my face and recognize it." (I realize that kind of sounds very similar to the way that I just put it, but at least you know that I know what I'm talking about.)

When Keith started this quest, he didn't have an online persona at all. Brace yourselves. He did NOT have a Facebook! (I know! The horror!) He didn't have a Twitter account and thus, did not tweet. (You've really gotta respect a guy who doesn't tweet.) He didn't even have some fancy-shmancy web page proclaiming how great he was. (He has a website now, but that's because of trying to become recognized. Duh. I still wouldn't call it fancy-shmancy, though.) Nope. He was just anonymous Keith. But he's hoping to change all of that by just getting pictures of his face out there so that people can become acquainted with who he is.

I'm OK with this idea. Think about all of the completely useless people out there that we know who they are for no particular reason. Paris Hilton? A total waste of space. Kim Kardashian? Nice ass, but again, a total waste of space. Neither one of them did anything other than shove their face out there for all the world to see over and over and over again until we had to know who they were. The problem with those two is that once they became recognizable, they someone convinced themselves that they had done something. Meanwhile, we're still stuck with them.

I don't think that Keith is a guy who we are going to mind being stuck with, provided that all goes well. He claims via the Asylum article that "...his intentions are pure and have nothing to do with being famous as a means to make more money, sell more books or any other end. " And I think I believe him. But even if he does end up making some money or securing a book deal (which would make me jealous as hell and I had at least better secure a mention in said book), good for him. At least he's doing something to warrant it. Do you know how many crappy books are out there by people that we've never even heard of? Exactly!

So I wanted to do my part. I like getting in on the ground floor of things. I became his friend on Facebook and that exposed him to my vast network of friends. (I use the term "vast network" extremely loosely and simply because I can!) And I'm writing this post and including as many pictures of Keith as I can. (I was going to mention that I thought Keith was kind of cute, but I just read over on his website that he's married to a "sexy woman", so there's no sense in that now.) I'm interested in how this one is going to turn out. I'm hoping that he can get himself so recognized that it blasts the Kardashians and Paris Hilton into obscurity. God, wouldn't that be great? That's why, as much as we want to count on him to succeed, he needs to count on us. So remember his face. Remember his name. It's Keith Fenimore. And he's better than the Kardashians! Good luck, Keith! We're counting on you!

Keep Your Shirt On!

As you may or may not care to be aware, President Barry is vacationing in Hawaii, the state where he was born (NOT Kenya!). The other day, the White House issues "strict instructions" (whatever that is supposed to mean) that they were not allowing anyone to take any pictures of President Barry without his shirt on. Isn't he the leader of the "free world"? Doesn't sound so "free" if pictures can't be taken of him without his shirt on. But what if someone were to take a picture of a shirtless President Barry? Would that be so bad? Have you seen him without his shirt on before? Hell, no, it wouldn't be that bad. Behold!

See? I don't see what's so wrong with that! He looks fine! Since when can someone lay down rules about what one can and cannot photograph? In America! Don't get me wrong. If they were going to say that no one can take a picture of the President shirtless, I certainly wish they would have made that rule long before now. Do you know how many other Presidents have been photographed shirtless? Way too many for my taste, thanks. Let's have a look. We'll start with Bill Clinton. Really? Did we need to see this? Behold!

Put your shirt back on. Please? I also found the picture below of ol' Willie Jeff shirtless. I don't quite understand what's going on to each side of him, but I'm sure that he found it pleasurable. Probably in more ways than one.

Here's Ronald Reagan sans shirt. Why wasn't there a moratorium on photos like THIS?!

No, I don't know why it's in black and white. I'm pretty sure that he was President during the years of color photography (even though he probably spent most of his life sitting for oil paintings). And here's Gerald Ford without a shirt.

Not bad, but he's kind of old so it's kind of weird. And what's with the poolside robe? Was that an early 1970s trademark? Wearing a robe before taking a dip? Interesting. And again with the black and white picture. Here's Lyndon B. Johnson getting as close to shirtless as I am comfortable with, as he shows reporters his scar from his gall bladder surgery.
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How many of us know an old guy who is just like that? They'll start telling you a story about something that happened to them and the next thing you know, they're practically disrobing right in front of you as if you wouldn't believe them otherwise. No, no! I believe that you almost had your grundle shot off by the Nazis, Grandpa! Put your pants back on!

I just don't get what the big deal is. If President Barry doesn't want his picture taken without his shirt on, as the leader of the free world (with the key word there being "free") I suggest that he keep his shirt on rather than telling folks what they can and can't take a picture of. I'm also going to say that I'll be deeply disappointing in all of the paparazzi out there if they can't manage to get a picture of him shirtless anyway. That's their job. After all, the word "paparazzi" is derived from an old Italian term meaning "A-holes who invade your privacy to get pictures that tabloids will pay for". Chop-chop!

End Of Credits Amusement

Two And A Half Men is the highest rated show on TV. The star of the show, a one unpredictable and often knife wielding Charlie Sheen, is the highest paid actor on TV, raking in somewhere around $1.8 million PER EPISODE. And it's sort of morphed to the point where it isn't really a sitcom anymore. It's more reality show, as it is really mirroring Charlie Sheen's crazy-ass life these days. You'd expect it to maybe be on the Biography Channel or something. Or that maybe it's one of those E! True Hollywood Story shows. Either way, it seems to mirror his violent and out of control life rather closely and no one seems to care. It's starting to get a little odd is what it is.

At the end of this past Monday's episode, after the credits rolled, something flashed on the screen that looked like a letter or a list. It was quick. You wouldn't have been able to read it without pausing the screen. Yes, this is what I have chosen to do with the advent of technology like the DVR. I've chosen to wait until the end of a show's credits are done rolling and then see if anything interesting pops up. OK, that's a little bit more about how I've chosen to spend my time as opposed to how I use technology, but it sounds a little more pathetic when I talk about it in terms of myself. Just go with it, will you? Thanks.

So, I rewind and I pause the screen. To my amusement, it was, in fact, a list. And just like the show, it was an imitation of life itself. Let's take a gander at it.

To Do List:

Recalibrate the line behind fiction and reality.

Meditate using new mantra: High ratings do not equate to high self-esteem. High ratings do not equate to high self-esteem.

Go to Al-Anon meeting.

Stand in front of a mirror and practice saying, "No comment."

Stand in front of a mirror and practice saying, "As far as I know, everything's terrific."

Write a country song entitled "Hooker in the Closet". Chorus: There's a hooker in the closet, 'neath the monogrammed robes. Don't know how she got there, and I can't find my clothes. Officer Krooky, how are you tonight? I've misplaced my watch but I'm feelin' all right." Donate royalties to women's shelter.

Quit the business and teach creative writing at Cal State Bakersfield. Fresno?

Bite the hand that feeds you because you've had more than enough to eat.

Hire a publicist to put a positive spin on this vanity card.

Wow. Just wow. Art imitating life, indeed. I really wish that there was some music to set to the lyrics of Hooker in the Closet. It sounds like a winner. Maybe not an Emmy award winning winner or anything like that, but more like a played-all-over-the-Internet-sort-of-winner. It worked for Antoine Dodson. There's nothing wrong with it. Don't judge. The point here is that it's both hilarious and rather odd all at the same time. I guess the lesson to be learned here is that if you just embrace who you are, whether it be an upstanding member of society or a naked, drunk, crazed actor with his face covered in cocaine, scaring the bejeezus out of a $12,000 a night hooker, you'll do just fine. People will be more accepting of who you are, what you do, who you do it with and how you do it if you just don't shy from who you are and embrace yourself. And believe me, embracing yourself will get you a lot farther than holding a knife to your wife's throat on Christmas Day. Allegedly.

Cars And Freedom - Together At Last

Look, I'm all good with all of the patriotism that is being displayed these days. I really am. But is this what we can look forward to in terms of automobile commercials? Because if it is, I don't know that I'm totally on board with it. George Washington driving a Dodge Challenger as he scares off hoardes of redcoats? Um, OK. I guess. It a slight "Dukes of Hazzard" feel to it. Maybe that's my issue. I'm not sure. What's next? The signing of the Declaration of Independence on the tailgate of a Dodge Ram? Why do I have the feeling that it will be?

Pedicures By The Pound

Here we have the case of a ridiculously overweight individual who is shocked, simply shocked, when they are treated differently than non-ridiculously overweight individuals. Now, the way that the woman was treated differently seems to be legit, but the way that it was carried out seems to be ridiculous. After all, can you really justify charging someone an extra five bucks for their pedicure because they might break the chair with their enormous arse?

I'm not so sure that you can, but that's what happened. According to WSBTV, a one Michelle Fonville had gone to Natural Nails on Covington Highway in DeKalb County (that's somewhere in Georgia) for a manicure, a pedicure and eyebrow arch. For those services, she was charged $29. Now, when I read the $29 part, I couldn't believe how cheap that was. She had her feet done, her nails done and her eyebrows arched for under thirty bucks? That's a deal in most places.

But at Natural Nails, it's usually even more of a deal, as they usually only charge $24. When Ms. Fonville realized that she had been overcharged by $5, she brought it to the attention of the salon manager, a one Kim Tran. And that's when she got the news that she was just too darned large. See, the justification for the extra $5 was that is was a surcharge that they had imposed "...due to costly repairs of broken chairs by overweight customers. She said the chairs have a weight capacity of 200 pounds and cost $2,500 to fix." Oh. Awkward.

Tran told the reporter from WSBTV "Do you think that’s fair when we take $24 [for manicure and pedicure] and we have to pay $2,500? Is that fair? No.” She forgot about the eyebrow arch. Oh, never mind. Sorry. I digress. Is that fair? Well, those are your prices, right? How DO those places stay in business anyway? I've never been able to figure that out.

Although Ms. Fonville claimed, “I was humiliated. I almost cried. Tears were forming in my eyes”, I'd like to point out that her humiliation did not stop her from running to her local news station and telling them of the tale. Nope. She didn't have any problem doing that. I'd also like to point out that she almost cried. Almost. That's not the same as crying.

Here's the part about this that I really like: "Tran said she refunded the $5 surcharge, and told Fonville to take her business elsewhere." Awesome. But naturally, that was not so awesome if you were asking Ms. Fonville because she said, “The word has to get out there that these people are discriminating against us because of our weight. I mean come on, we’re in America. You can’t do that." I'm not so sure.

I'm not so sure that this is discrimination. I'm not so sure that charging the $5 is such a good idea, but that doesn't necessarily make it discriminatory. If the manufacturer of the chair specifies that it cannot hold more than 200 pounds, then is the salon is technically being negligent if they let people who are clearly over 200 pounds use the chair? They might be. I can just see some obese asshat getting stuck in one of the chairs and the fire department has to come and Free Willy and then the salon ends up getting sued because they let them sit in a chair that wasn't meant to hold the girth of a tractor trailer. It's not like that's unheard of. If this was a case of what the manufacturer recommended, rather than charge the $5, shouldn't the salon just not cater to those over the weight limit? (Do they really need a pedicure? Can they even see their feet? Ohh. I didn't really write that, did I?)

So, I guess the salon should have a sign in the window informing people of larger carriage that they are going to be charged an extra $5? Or should they have something like one of those things at the airport where you check to see if your bag is too big to be a carry on? You know, like if the person can't fit comfortably between the width of some device, then they're too big for the chair? Or do they just eliminate service to the overly rotund all together? If they're only charging an extra $5 and a new chair is $2,500, they're going to need 500 behemoths that want pedicures. Do they have that large (pun totally intended) of clientele from that particular segment of society? Down in Georgia? I'm guessing they most certainly do.

I'm pretty sure that this isn't discriminatory. I think that the salon owner has a legitimate concern, but I don't think that charging an extra $5 is the answer. I think that she just needs to eliminate the problem by posting a weight limit somewhere. That way she doesn't end up with any broken chairs and doesn't need to impose a surcharge. And if Ms. Fonville doesn't like it, perhaps she might consider shedding a few pounds. It's not like she has to be that large, right? (If anyone leaves a comment having anything to do with the thyroid gland or a slow metabolism, so help me, I'll stab my screen.)

Getting A Little Squirrelly

I'm not a fan of "The Most Expensive ____" (put whatever you want in the blank) because there's no reasonable scale on which to judge something. I can say that I have a pair of socks for sale for one million dollars and that they are the most expensive socks in the world, but that doesn't necessarily make them so, you know what I mean? It's just like having "The World's Biggest (insert food item here)". If it's a food that you're growing in the ground or on a tree, that's fine. But if it's a food that anyone can make, that's ridiculous. Sure, you can have the World's Biggest Hamburger and have it weigh 750 pounds, but what is stopping anyone from having a 751 pound hamburger (other than sheer sanity)? Not much. World records that are the biggest and the most expensive should have a small degree of luck or chance to them.

That's all why I was not overly interested when I heard that, at $770 per bottle, a brewery in Fraserberg, Scotland, is selling a new Belgian blonde ale which is 55 percent alcohol. It's the process to make the beer which the brewers claim is the reason for the exorbitant expense. Apparently they need to keep the beer at far below freezing temperatures so that water separates from the solution. They apparently repeat that process a gazillion times and it takes hundreds of liters of the beer in order to make just one 330 ml bottle. Granted, it's a super boozy bottle, but it's still just one.

Is the process necessary? I have no idea. And while I have a fondness for beer, I don't have much of an interest in drinking a $770 bottle of beer. I just don't. That's not what beer is about. You know what else beer isn't about? Dead rodent road kill that are all taxidermied up with the bottle of beer shoved down inside them. Wait. What? Behold!

Oh, what the hell is that? That is the End of History Beer by BrewDog. According to AOL News the BrewDog co-founder, a one 29-year old James Watt said, "This is the beer to end all beers. It's an audacious blend of eccentricity, artistry and rebellion; changing the general perception of beer one stuffed animal at a time." OK, then. I'd definitely say that a $770 bottle of beer is audacious and reeks of a rebellion. But I'm not so sure that it changes the general perception of beer as much as it changes the general perception of anyone out there who is trying (sometimes desperately) to make a buck. I'm not much for gimmicks. I'm all for gimme, as in "Gimme my beer and leave me the hell alone". THAT I can totally get behind. A gimmick? Not so much.

Mr. Watt went on to say, "We want to show people there is an alternative to monolithic corporate beers, introduce them to a completely new approach to beer and elevate the status of beer in our culture." Well, that's all fine and good, but I don't know that you're going to elevate the status of much by cramming it down roadkill. I'm just saying. Mr. Watt added that (referring to beer drinkers in the United Kingdom) "are constrained by lack of choice; seduced by the monolithic corporate brewers' huge advertising budgets and brainwashed by vindictive lies perpetrated with the veracity of propaganda." I really wish he had given an example of the vindictive lies by corporate brewers. What could a brewer lie about? This beer won't get you drunk even a little bit? I don't get that. As for the constraining lack of choice, you DO live on an island, my good man. It's hard to have much variety when there isn't a lot of choice to be had. That doesn't mean that one needs to create variety by shoving a bottle of beer down a....what is that? A chipmunk? Never mind. All I'm saying is that you'll adjust the the drudgery of no variety.

Fortunately, there are only 12 bottles of The End of History. Unfortunately, they've already sold out of them. Of course they have. (In case you were wondering, the one creature is a stoat and the other one is a squirrel. There were 8 stoats available and only 4 squirrels. Apparently, stoats are more prone to getting clobbered by traffic than are the squirrels.) This is only going to make them try to do something of this nature again. They'll just strive for something a little more outrageous, is all. Maybe they'll cram a keg of ale inside of a hippopotamus or something. Or have a whole variety of beers on tap being poured from a cow's udder. Who knows? I only wish that I wouldn't have to find out.

Nebraska - The Next Arizona

As is the case with most days, I am confused. I'm confused because of a little town called Fremont, Nebraska. There aren't a lot of people in Fremont (and that's probably for good reason). Maybe around 26,000 is all. But when they went to the polls on Monday, at least 57% of the voters voted yes on a measure to help control illegal immigration. Hmm. That sounds vaguely familiar...

According to something called WOWT (which appears to be some sort of NBC affiliate), the measure does a couple of things. Thing One: "Before landlords can rent any home to a person in Fremont, that person must show a certificate obtained from the city. In order to get the certificate the person will have to prove they are in the United States legally." Ahhh. I like it. And I like Thing Two as well, which is that "The ordinance also requires Fremont employers to verify the legal residency status of people they hire." Sweet!

Way to go Fremont, Nebraska! You certainly are a plucky little town! What was the driving force behind such legislation? You liked won't be shocked to learn that "Supporters said they wanted the city to act because the Federal Government has failed to enforce immigration laws and because it has failed to secure the nation's borders." Hmmm. That sounds vaguely familiar as well...

In case you're missing the obvious correlation here, the Fremont, Nebraska law sounds surprisingly like what they're doing in Arizona. It's just making sure that there is some sort of verification of a person's legal residence in this country. And just like the rationale behind the Arizona law, Fremont, Nebraska is fed up with the Federal Government doing absolutely nothing to enforce immigration laws and secure our borders. And just like in Arizona, these things are FAR from crazy notions. However, what makes the Fremont, Nebraska law stand out from the Arizona law is that the Fremont, Nebraska law was voted on by the people.

That is the part that people who are against the Arizona law need to really pay attention to. So far, they've done a really good job of trying to ignore that, according to polling, 60% of the country and 70% of people in Arizona are all for these sorts of laws. And they could kind of trick themselves into thinking that those numbers didn't hold any weight because the Arizona law wasn't put to the voters. But the Fremont, Nebraska law was put to the voters. And the results were surprisingly close to what the poll numbers showed about the Arizona law; about 60% were in favor of it.

That brings me to my confusion. Why was there all of the hooplah and uproar over the Arizona law, but there isn't that same kind of outcry over the Fremont, Nebraska law? How come I haven't heard of people wanting to boycott Fremont? (Granted, there probably isn't much there to boycott in the first place, but I'm operating on the principle of thing here, so stay with me!) How come there aren't city council meetings far and away where they discuss boycotting Fremont, Nebraska? How come I haven't heard all of the cries of racism over Fremont, Nebraska? Is it because their law only requires some sort of documentation if someone wants something (ie, a place to rent), whereas the Arizona law allows for a general suspicion of someone being in this country illegally to warrant a request to see identity documents? I don't know. I don't get it.

If I had to guess, however, I would guess that it was because the law was enacted through a vote. It's hard to argue with what the voters want. Just look at South Carolina and ol' Alvin Greene, the Democratic Party's candidate for the Senate. The voters voted for him and he appears to be dumb as a post. That's apparently what they wanted (though it's extremely unclear as to why). Fremont, Nebraska passing this law simply reflects what the national polls do, and that is that people are frustrated with the federal government not doing anything to curb illegal immigration and so they're willing to vote on measures that will allow individual states to try and save themselves. And perhaps one of the best things that it can accomplish is maybe all of those people who continually complain about the Arizona law will start to pipe down. I'm all for any law that silences morons.

Jacko's Last Day

Well, we finally know how Michael Jackson spent his last day on this earth. I kind of thought that we knew the basics already, but apparently CBS News felt the need to re-hash it a little bit given as how Jacko has been dead for almost a year now. (Is that really possible? Has it really been a year? I would swear to you that it was only like a month ago that my cell phone was blowing up with texts telling me he had croaked it. A year? Really?) Here's what we know (knew).

"Early in the afternoon...Michael Jackson came down the stairs of his rented mansion" and "wanted to eat something light but sustaining." It had to be both. Light but sustaining. Not just one. Not just the other. Both. Light but sustaining. He ended up with his personal chef preparing him "...seared ahi tuna with an organic salad and a glass of carrot and orange juice." Hmm. That does light but sustaining. It also sounds like his last meal.

The article says that shortly before 7pm, he left the aforementioned rented mansion and he "...traveled downtown to the Staples Center, where Jackson and his team of musicians and dancers were in final rehearsals before heading to London". So, wait a minute. It's now seven o'clock at night and all the guy has done is have breakfast? It sure wasn't a very busy last day on earth. I had busier days than that when I was 5.

"Later that night, Jackson and his dancers performed "Thriller" on stage in full costume for the first time." Tell me something. Did Michael Jackson really need any sort of costume for that show? Couldn't he have looked like a creature that was undead and not necessarily human just as he was? I'm thinking that his makeup wouldn't have required a whole lot of extra work. I mean, maybe a little extra adhesive to make sure that his nose stayed affixed in the correct position, but other than that, probably not a lot of effort.

His rehearsal ended somewhere around midnight and one of his hired, Islamic goons drove him home. "Soon after Jackson arrived home, he started complaining of fatigue and that he needed sleep." Hmm. So, it's likely after midnight and he's complaining of fatigue and needing to sleep? Is that unusual? It sounds like me...at night. I get fatigued and I decide to go to bed because I need to sleep. It's not a unique occurrence! But what happened next will shock you! And kill him!

Around 1:30am that fateful day, the now infamous Dr. Conrad Murray gave Jacko 10 milligrams of Valium. Considering that Jacko usually wanted the equivalent of a horse tranquilizer to get to sleep, that did nothing. Thus, about half an hour later, Dr. Murray gave him 2 milligrams of lorazepam (it's the same drug family as Valium) through a saline drip. It's unclear as to why the Valium was in pill form and the lorazepam was administered through a drip. It's also unclear as to why Dr. Murray (or any doctor, for that matter) would have agreed to such an arrangement.

How would you like it if that was your job? You spend all of that time going through medical school just so that you can sit in a chair and watch Michael Jackson sleep? Yes, it sounds like an incredibly easy gig. It also sounds like an incredibly boring gig. And the way that we now know that everything turned out? He probably could have had Bubbles the chimp doing what he did.

Regardless as to the amount of drugs now coursing through his veins, Jacko was still awake around 3am, so this time Dr. Murray gave him 2 milligrams of another Valium relative, this one called midazolam. By 5am, all of this had done absolutely nothing, so it was back to the lorazepam for another 2 milligrams. And by 7:30am, it was back to the midazolam for another 2 milligrams of that.

At this point, he now has taken 10 milligrams of Valium, 4 milligrams of lorazepam and 4 milligrams of midazolam and the guy is still wide awake. By 10:40am, Jacko had been begging for the propofol or what he called, his "milk". Look, Jacko...it's almost eleven o'clock in the morning. You have several drugs making their way through your emaciated system. It's over. Stop trying. Just give it up and get up. You've been lying there all night. It's not like you're exhausted or anything. Yes, not sleeping sucks, but come on, man! Get over it. Get up and get yourself a light but sustaining breakfast and go about your day.

Why Dr. Murray ended up caving in is beyond me. I think by 10:40 in the morning, I would have said "Screw the propofol!" and just thwacked him over the head with a baseball bat or something. That would have knocked him out. And you'd probably only have to do it once. It wouldn't require multiple applications like that lorazepam and midazolam crap. One good "THONK!" and you're done. Or maybe suggest to him that he count sheep. Or count Macaulays. Something.

Unfortunately, I wasn't around to keep Jacko in line. Nor was I there to keep Dr. Murray in line. And Dr. Murray ended up giving him 25 mg of propofol through his drip. Now, usually propofol is used on people as they're being cut open by a surgeon. It's rarely used on reclusive pop stars, once married to Elvis Presley's daughter, who have a hard time nodding off.

What happens after that, in the end, is fairly clear. (He croaks it.) How it happens (the dying and all) isn't. Dr. Murray says that he gave him the propofol, stayed with him for 10 minutes, left for 2 minutes and came back to find him not breathing. Of course, he didn't end up calling 911 until about 12:27pm. That translates into about an hour an a half after all of the breathing stopped. He wasn't pronounced dead until 2:26pm, so that means that they were essentially trying to revive a corpse for about 2 to 2-1/2 hours. I know that it seems silly to state that it was clearly a waste of time, but I'm kind of thinking that they would have known that then as well. Wasn't he starting to get stiff by that point? You can pound on a guy's chest all you want, but once you notice that it's the equivalent of pounding on a 2x4, what say you call it a day, all right? Ok, then.

Sounds like a pretty sucky last day of life if you're asking me. I mean, at least Elvis had some stuff on his schedule before he died straining at stool in his own bathroom. He had a dental appointment at 2 in the morning. He played racquetball at midnight or something. He had lots of stuff going on. All Jacko did before 7pm was eat breakfast. A sad end to a rather sad life. I still can't believe it's been a year.