Hey Joe

Friday Twofer

Dig it. After a long dry spell the last meals are being doled out fast and furious.

First there was Carlton Turner of – SURPRISE!!- Texas. Convicted of murdering his adoptive parents (how's that for gratitude), Turner bought the farm on Thursday.

Turner was served up a last meal of fried chicken, cheese and onion omelets and chocolate cake.

Yummy!

Next we have Kent Jackson, also rubbed out on Thursday; however this time the state of Virginia did the honors. Before the festivities, Jackson did his best Arnold Schwarzenegger impression when he told witnesses, "I'll be back."

But get this. Apparently Jackson asked that the contents of his last meal not be released. I guess his last wish was to deny Joe his goulash ghoulish jollies. But I will not be denied. Further research has determined that, while Jackson ultimately refused his last meal, he had ordered chicken stir fry, a salad, cookies and an orange drink.

Is anyone else hungry right now?

One Grand Slam breakfast to go

For those who like a little grisly with their Disney, today we return to a little used category here at Hey Joe; the Last Meal.

For whatever strange reason (perhaps because I'm a sick and twisted bastard), the last meal food item selections of a condemned man have always fascinated me, so much so that a few years ago I signed up to get Yahoo News Alerts whenever they run stories about executions. However I think the folks at Yahoo have fallen down on the job because it's been a long time since I've received any alerts, and I know that at least Texas must have knocked off a feller or two since I last posted.

Anyway, I read yesterday that child killer and darn fine candidate for execution, Mark Dean Schwab, got his on Tuesday.

Schwab's last meal consisted of:

• Two fried eggs
• Four strips of bacon
• Two sausage links
• Hash browns
• One quart of chocolate milk

Now that sounds like a mighty fine breakfast to me. Yes sir, a breakfast like that will give a man plenty of get-up-and-go, more than enough to face whatever the day has in store. Unless of course the day plans to strap you to a gurney and pump you full of poison. For that you might need an extra couple of sausage links.

Rolling Offed

Danny Harold Rolling, Florida's "most notorious serial killer since Ted Bundy" has been executed.

Rolling was pronounced dead approximately thirty minutes ago (or 6:13 EST). Rolling was convicted of the very brutal 1990 slayings of five college students in Gainesville, Florida.

Media reports state that Rolling ate his last meal shortly before noon. It consisted of lobster tail, butterfly shrimp, baked potato, strawberry cheesecake and sweet tea. Sounds too good for this bastard.

"He enjoyed his last meal. He ate every bite," said Corrections Department spokesman Robby Cunningham

So there you go. Our mutual obsession has been slaked.

Last Meal

In honor of my newest category, I give you Arthur Rutherford, executed Wednesday in Florida by lethal injection.

Arthur's last meal consisted of fried green tomatoes, fried eggplant, fried catfish, hush puppies and sweet tea. Coincidentally, he had the same meal in January when his execution was stopped by the US Supreme court just "minutes" before he was to be offed.

Arthur did like his fried foods and apparently movies about killer lesbians.

Last Meal

I am fascinated by the subject of capital punishment and execution. A condemned man is preparing to meet his Maker. Soon he will have the answers to all those difficult questions that plague our minds about “the other side.” Is there a Heaven or Hell? What of God and Jesus? Do we become "ghosts" and if so, can we come back to earth and hang out? Will we see old friends and relatives? Is there ice cream?

Actually, this last one, or should I say food in general, is what often intrigues me most whenever the papers start to fill with stories about an upcoming execution—the last meal. What a daunting decision this must be. Forget the fact that I probably wouldn’t be able to swallow a bite, but how does one decide? Are there limitations to your requests? Say you wanted a hot dog. Would you get the local chain supermarket’s generic frankfurter or could you specify one of those monster dogs from Costco? Now me? I’d request a rare, exotic shellfish that could only be obtained off the coast of Latvia during the first hour of a New Moon in the Year of the Monkey by the Chinese Calendar.

“What, it’s the year of the Dog? I guess we’ll just have to postpone my execution. Yes I know everyone’s all geared up for it. I’m sorry. Really I am.”

OK, so there probably are limitations. Fine, I can live with that (rimshot). But what if they botch your meal? Say they bring you cream of mushroom soup instead of the lobster bisque you requested? Can you send it back? Are you entitled to a stay because you got gypped? That would be just my luck to get screwed out of my last request.

“We're out of pepperoni, you’ll have to have sausage.”

“Is it link sausage or those little bits of mashed sausage, because the mashed stuff repeats on me?”

“Look pal, it’s sausage, I don’t know what kind. Do you want it or not?”

And there I’d be, meeting my maker with a bad case of indigestion.

How about types of food? What would best befit a last meal? Seinfeld fans may recall Elaine’s reasoning that it would depend on the method of execution. Electrocution? Something spicy, perhaps Mexican. (This one would probably work for the gas chamber as well.) What about other forms of execution? Lethal injection: turkey with extra tryptophan? Pulled taffy for a hanging? Well, you get the idea.

A more important question might be your motive. Are you looking for revenge? One word: Asparagus.

Perhaps a light meal would be best. Maybe a nice shrimp salad with a zesty Dijon dressing. I mean really, who wants to be stuffed and bloated at the end? But I know that as soon as I’d swallowed that last lettuce leaf, I’d kick myself:

“Your last meal and you choose salad?! Salad?! What are you crazy? You could have had a nice Chilean sea bass with garlic-mashed potatoes; some good old fashioned Yankee pot roast or a nice pasta dish”.

Pasta. Yeah, that’s it. But what kind? Rigatoni or rotini? Pesto or marinara sause? Perhaps a nice linguini with clams. And I’d definitely need a glass of red wine to go with.

“What do you mean, no alcohol? Why not? I think I need to speak with my attorney. And the sommelier.”