Apparently, it was 17 years ago today that Kurt Cobain killed himself. I wouldn't have realized if someone had not brought it up on Facebook.
You see, I hate Nirvana's music. Hate it. They were a drastically overrated waste of airplay. In my not-so-humble opinion. In fact, the day Cobain offed himself, some of my friends gathered with me and we made a toast and drank to "No new Nirvana albums."
Yeah, I'm a bastard. And then some.
Cobain's suicide also hatched a little plot amongst some my friends. At that time, I was studying Criminal Justice at my local community college, and one of our instructors was the head detective for the Snohomish County Sheriff's Office (and later would become Sheriff).
After our Homicide Investigation class wrapped up for the day, a few of us walked up to ol' Bart. He eyed us suspiciously. "What do you want?" he asked.
"Say, uh, Bart, do you have any friends in the King County homicide department?"
"Of course," Bart replied. "Why?"
"All right...hear us out. All we need is one picture from the Cobain crime scene. Picture this poster: Cobain in the chair, post-mortem, and the caption - 'This is your brain on Grunge.' Money in the bank, man. We'll cut you in."
Bart just said, "You little sickos just get to your next class."
Damn Bart and his morals. We could have made a fortune.
7 months ago