Norman Mailer Obituary
New York (AP)-Norman Mailer
, a rat, a beast, was found dead on the morning of November 10, 2007 by a commuter riding his bike to work. It was before sunrise. The ground was moist, there was no frost from the night before, which is strange being so late in the season; the dew on the earth was a surprise to this common man. Later he would say that the uncharacteristic warm morning in combination with his corpse discovery added up to one of the strangest days he had woken up to in a good while. Mailer, if he were alive to speak to the man, and if rats could speak English, might have told him that the day is no more than a “bunch of ants marching their burden back to their hill.”
Norman Mailer, the beast, according to experts had died of acute renal failure. They attributed this malfunction to the October 21, 1967 date where the subject was said to have had some bathroom difficulties. The following excerpt is from one of Mailer’s public journals, which were found in his rats den among an old toothbrush, hair curlers and a pez dispenser. This particular journal was labeled, The Armies of the Night
.
“Of course, pissing on the floor was bad –very bad; the attendant would probably gossip to the police (if the Time man did not sniff it out first) and The Uniformed in turn would report it to The Press, who were sure to write about the scandalous condition in which this meeting had left the toilets.”
Mailer, self appointed the Jewish mind of everything that is cool and hip, would often make new friends, invite them out to a certain eating spot and then leave half way through the meal footing his new acquaintances with the bill.
Give the beast his credit though, he outlined the wigger lifestyle so thoroughly in his public essay, The white negro
, that it’s surprising that suburbanites don’t line their walls with posters of rats instead of the ubiquitous artist whose music dominates their school dances.
Oddly a report questioning the cause of death gained momentum a few days after Mailer’s death. Persons of the media began to question the reason for this beast’s grave. They believed, after seeing photographs circulating online, that he had been run down and died of those consequences rather than from a form of kidney failure. A committee was gathered. Many great minds in philosophy, psychology and literature would be there to discuss the possible deaths of Norman Mailer. The chief of medicine in the United States intervened though and ruled that there was no need for any discussion on the topic.
“The internet is unreliable,” he said, “There is no need to get all bent out of shape. Medical science is to be trusted. They say acute renal is the cause and there is no reason not to believe them.”
The topic was dropped.
, a rat, a beast, was found dead on the morning of November 10, 2007 by a commuter riding his bike to work. It was before sunrise. The ground was moist, there was no frost from the night before, which is strange being so late in the season; the dew on the earth was a surprise to this common man. Later he would say that the uncharacteristic warm morning in combination with his corpse discovery added up to one of the strangest days he had woken up to in a good while. Mailer, if he were alive to speak to the man, and if rats could speak English, might have told him that the day is no more than a “bunch of ants marching their burden back to their hill.”
Norman Mailer, the beast, according to experts had died of acute renal failure. They attributed this malfunction to the October 21, 1967 date where the subject was said to have had some bathroom difficulties. The following excerpt is from one of Mailer’s public journals, which were found in his rats den among an old toothbrush, hair curlers and a pez dispenser. This particular journal was labeled, The Armies of the Night.
“Of course, pissing on the floor was bad –very bad; the attendant would probably gossip to the police (if the Time man did not sniff it out first) and The Uniformed in turn would report it to The Press, who were sure to write about the scandalous condition in which this meeting had left the toilets.”
Mailer, self appointed the Jewish mind of everything that is cool and hip, would often make new friends, invite them out to a certain eating spot and then leave half way through the meal footing his new acquaintances with the bill.
Give the beast his credit though, he outlined the wigger lifestyle so thoroughly in his public essay, The white negro, that it’s surprising that suburbanites don’t line their walls with posters of rats instead of the ubiquitous artist whose music dominates their school dances.
Oddly a report questioning the cause of death gained momentum a few days after Mailer’s death. Persons of the media began to question the reason for this beast’s grave. They believed, after seeing photographs circulating online, that he had been run down and died of those consequences rather than from a form of kidney failure. A committee was gathered. Many great minds in philosophy, psychology and literature would be there to discuss the possible deaths of Norman Mailer. The chief of medicine in the United States intervened though and ruled that there was no need for any discussion on the topic.
“The internet is unreliable,” he said, “There is no need to get all bent out of shape. Medical science is to be trusted. They say acute renal is the cause and there is no reason not to believe them.”
The topic was dropped.
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