September 18, 2007
originally published April 13, 2004
Here's a newspaper report that dares to suggest that Erin Brockovitch is full of shit and she's an "opportunist" rather than an environmental crusader.
My father died of prostate cancer in 1992. Mama, my brother and I made the decision to have a closed-coffin service, because we didn't want people gawking at my father's dead body and I DAMN SURE didn't want anyone telling me how "good" he looked. He didn't look good to me. The last time I saw him, he looked dead.
I did my best to maintain my composure and be dignified through that entire ordeal, but I almost lost it once. Dr. George Roberts, a senile old cocksuker chemist from the plant showed up at the memorial service. My father hated his guts.
"Why is the coffin closed?" the insensitive bastard asked.
"Because we want it that way," I replied.
"Well, I told your father for years that smoking cigarettes was going to catch up with him, sooner or later. He should have listened to me." The shitheel turned around and grinned at me as if to say, "See? I was right and your daddy was wrong."
I wanted to strangle the scrawny asswipe, but I controlled my temper. "Doc, my father died of prostate cancer. I watched him smoke cigarettes all my life, but I swear, I NEVER SAW HIM STICK ONE UP HIS ASS! What the hell are you talking about, you dumbfuck? Cigarettes don't cause prostate cancer."
He went away in a huff and died himself, all healthy and smoke-free, a couple of years later. I didn't go to HIS funeral. But I should have. I could have asked his son, "Do you suppose that working with chemicals all those years may have contributed to your father's death?"
Oh, hell, yes. That's GOT to be what it was. CALL ERIN BROCKOVITCH!
I despise environmentalists, but I absolutely HATE people who prey on an ignorant public by using environmental scares to enrich themselves. That's Erin Brockovitch in a nutshell.
All content © Rob Smith