The King Is Dead

August 16, 1977. Do you remember where you were when you heard the news? I do. I was in the car with my mom, listening to "The Big 89, WLS" I think the sappy ballad, "Sister Golden Hair" by America had just finished playing when one of the fine jocks came on the air with the horrible news, Elvis had died. How weird that my recollection of that day seems so clear, yet I'm fuzzy on what I had for breakfast today, and "Wife's" real name.

Yes, on that fateful morning, Elvis plodded into his bathroom after a long night of raquet ball and barbiturates. After resting his ample girth on what I'm sure was a fancy toilet, (I can only guess, but if you've ever been to Graceland, you'd know that nothing was low key) he began a movement more difficult than any work by Mozart. The official cause of death was "strained stool" or "impacted colon". I don't need to tell you what that means, but let's say I always have it in the back of my mind when I've eaten too much cheese, and Nature is having a difficult time running it's course. I'm trying to resist any and all "king on his throne" jokes, but I will say that in the end, Elvis really pushed things to the limit. At some point, don't you think he'd have stopped pushing and taken a breath? I know it's fun to see how long you can go before passing out, but come on.

It's a shame that Elvis had to go out in such a hilarious way. Even though toward the end of his life, he had lost most of the magic that had made him big, nobody wants their last moment on Earth to be spent on a bathroom floor with their pajamas around their ankles and a turtle head sticking out. Let's just hope that the cool tile gave him a small bit of relief. I do feel bad. I'm a fan of Elvis. I think that despite becoming a caricature of himself, he was a great showman and made some terrific music. I'm not alone. Millions of people visit Graceland every year, and "Elvis Week" just ended again in Memphis. It is hard not to laugh when you see the bloated Elvis in his ill fitting jumpsuit, or hearing him forget lyrics during drug addled performances, but then you see the big '68 comeback special and realize what it was that made Elvis the "king" in the first place.

Elvis was just poor white trash that hit it big, got lots of money and went crazy. It's too bad that in the end, nobody who was riding his gravy train, had the heart to help him out. We better hope that Britney Spears has someone to tell her no. If not, let's pray they keep her away from the cheese and downers. Long live the king! Later...Brian