Prince is dead.
I, my, damn.
Chyna yesterday (one of my heroes when I watched wrestling back in the 90s), and now…him?
I’ve got really nothing more to say. Oh wait.
The flu, people. A great was cut down by the flu. He kept performing with the fucking flu.
I don’t even know how I feel about that. Such dedication to music and his fans that it fucking killed him.
See, I loved “Kiss”, “Little Red Corvette”, “Let’s Get Crazy”.
“Get Off” was the song I technically wasn’t allowed to listen to, but did anyway.
For YEARS I thought the chorus to “I Would Die 4 You” was “Apple Dapple Do” (I was a kid, okay?)
“Pussy Control” was one the songs I power walked to when I could power walk without a cane.
I graduated in 1999, so guess which song I got sick of?
He was sexual, he was stylish, he gave no fucks about what was considered “masculine” and had his own style. He was fearless and awesome and every part of me wants to go to Paisley Park to pay homage. Fucking chronic pain.
This year can eat me.
June 7, 1958 – April 21, 2016