Now I’m not normally one to speak ill of the dead, but after reading about all of the…um…oddities surrounding the death of actor David Carradine earlier this week, I can’t help but think “DUDE, W-T-F?!.”
For those who haven’t heard, it’s been reported that the 72-year-old actor may have been engaged in a dangerous form of sex play known as auto-erotic asphyxiation. His body was found in a hotel closet in Bangkok with a rope tied to his neck, wrist and genitals.
Now I’m not going to judge the dude for getting his freak-on. I mean everybody’s got their thing and that’s cool.
Some dudes like to get punched in the pills, some dudes like to have Mariah Carey playing in the background and, apparently, some dudes like to do their business whilst in a noose that is slowly strangling them to death.
Whatevs…again, I’m not one to judge his indulgences.
I guess what I don’t get is why someone—especially someone who is a world-renowned celebrity—would put themselves in a situation to be found dead in such an awkward and embarrassing situation.
Forget that he was in more than 100 films and worked with directors like Martin Scorsese and Ingmar Bergman.
Forget that he was absolutely bad-ass as the title character in Quentin Tarantino’s “Kill Bill.”
None of that matters now, because David Carradine will forever be remembered as the dude who accidently hanged himself whilst spanking his monkey in a hotel closet in Bangkok.
And that, my Faithful Readers…is a gosh-darned shame.