|I'm sorry Jimmy. I didn't mean to kill you.|
Well, not literally KILLED killed. Let me explain: In July of 1997 when I was very pregnant with 19, we were watching a Jimmy Stewart movie and I turned to my husband and innocently asked him if Jimmy Stewart was still alive or had he passed. My husband said that he thought he was still alive but wasn't sure.
The very next day, Jimmy Stewart died. I felt awful. REALLY awful. I felt like I had killed an icon. I killed George Bailey. I had killed Buttons A Clown. I was devastated. Who know I had so much power?
Flash forward to a few years ago. 19 and 17 were talking and the subject of Michael Jackson came up. 19 had innocently mentioned that she thought Michael Jackson had died. And guess what happened the next day. You guessed it. The King of Pop moon-walked his way to the other side. Yep, my daughter killed Michael Jackson. Who knew we had that much power??
Flash forward to this past weekend. Hubs texted the family group chat to let us know that Chuck Berry had died. Now, I'm not gonna lie. I honestly thought Chuck Berry died years ago. So for clarification, I said "Do you mean Chuck Barris? From the Gong Show??" to which my beloved husband said "No, Chuck Barris died years ago. I mean Chuck Berry from Rock and Roll."
Guess what happened today. Go on, guess.
If you guessed that my husband killed Chuck Barris, you'd be correct.
I believe that we, as a family, need to NOT be allowed to mention the names of anyone in Hollywood because we just have so much power. The only one of us who has yet to murder anyone famous is 17. She's the family's only redeeming quality, our little non-murdering offspring.
If you see us on the street, don't fear us, we don't just go around killing anyone, all willy nilly. You are only in danger if you are a celebrity. Apparently.