#256 – The Irony of It

Don’t ask me why, but I’m fascinated with the subject of ironic deaths. My prototypical example is the passing of Jim Fixx. In the 70’s, he was a celebrated advocate of good health promoted by running, and he authored a book titled The Complete Book of Running. He died from a heart attack suffered while running. More recently, I spotted a slightly different but equally absurd example of the genre in an Atlanta Journal Constitution article, titled: “Undersea documentarian killed in helicopter crash.” I’ve often tried to imagine my own ironic expiration as well, but I’ve never been able to conceive a suitable scenario, until last night.

After reading the AJC story a couple of weeks ago, I’d revisited my efforts to construct an appropriate headline for my own extinction. I failed, again, but the exercise did not prove fruitless. While musing on the topic, I discovered that my wife had cleared space from our DVR – for more of her beloved “Real Housewives” episodes – by erasing my as-yet-unviewed, five-hour, Super Bowl pregame show! I headed straight for my computer and vented my displeasure with the creation of a newspaper-style piece inspired by the incident. I titled it: “Real housewife in Georgia beaten to death by enraged husband, while watching recorded episode of ‘Real Housewives of Atlanta.’” After printing the article, I left it on my desk and promptly forgot about it.

I hate guns, but I do believe in protecting myself from home invasions. Consequently, in every residence I’ve lived in, except for our present abode, I’ve always kept a golf club within reach for self-defense. Last night, while restocking our toilet paper from the basement supply, I passed my golf bag. I realized I’d never pulled out a club for defense in this house. Despite my wife’s possession of a loaded pistol in her bedside dresser, I thought it high time to secure my own means of protection. So I grabbed a two iron and headed upstairs with it.

While I visited the basement, Sophia lay in bed watching, what else, one of the “Real Housewives” shows. She spied my return when I reached the top of the staircase, with the two iron resting atop my shoulder. That’s when I learned my wife had come across the fake news article on my desk, inconveniently dated for the following morning’s edition. At the same time, I at last received inspiration for an appropriately ironic headline detailing my demise, titled: “Wise-ass firearm hater shot to death by overly cautious wife … who failed to get the joke.”

One means of defense against home invasion

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