You know how I always """joke""" about smoking crack cocaine being the secret to my success?

Well, guess what. Some famous brit flower boy singer or some shit was staying at a hotel a mere 20 or so minute bus ride away from where I live.

What happens then is, of course, that brain fissure mother fucker got higher than shit on that damn crack and jumped to his death. Coincidence? I don't think so. I mean, what are the odds?

He was trying to copy my formula, no doubt about that. And obviously, he failed.

But I still feel this is very unfair -- to me. Not only did he plagiarize without recognition, I now also may or may not have to deal with the inevitable shrine that will be built by his fans on the spot where he met his unfortunate end, to gather around and ritually incinerate hardcore drugs in his honor, leaving behind crackpipes for him to smoke in heaven and that kind of commemorative jazz. Hmm, it might boost turism though, so it's not all bad.

Imagine the tour guide, maan. "Oh, and this is the spot where that guy from some dumbass boyband splattered against the ground after trying to beat Max Wright at his own game, RIP and please sir don't defecate on the plaque SIR DO N-- well, nevermind. OK, moving on... "

Anyway, I just wanted to publicize the fact that I didn't even know who the fuck he was until his untimely demise, may God have mercy on him, but it serves him right for trying to steal my arcane secrets.