Editorial: The Dead Kennedys

By Rob Reuter

Professional Grave Tapdancer

Rob is either debuting the first act of his water ballet, "The Ballad of John-John," or else he has died. No film at eleven.

Well, John F. Kennedy Jr., showing that he took more after his Uncle Teddy than he did his dad, finally proved that the Kennedys missed their calling as submarine drivers.

Since John-John went into the drink-drink last month, I have been inundated with news stories about the "Kennedy Curse." Twenty-four hours a day I’ve had to listen to newscasters pissing and moaning about how the ‘ol clan seems to have been marked for tragedy by our vengeful God. This might explain why He hasn’t submitted His "Tips For Living" piece to us this month; maybe he’s on vacation down at the Vineyard, fucking with the Kennedys so He can write the trip off as a business expense on His taxes.

I’ve looked at a bunch of local news graphics detailing the various tragedies that have led to the theory of a curse, and the best I can figure is, the Kennedy Curse is that members of their family die. Shit, members of my family die, but except for Uncle Guido who was taken out by S.W.A.T. when the bank job went sour, we apparently don’t rank TV coverage.

Now, some of you are going to crank yourselves up into a quasi-religious frenzy of rage and send me hate mail over this (I can picture the scene; pounding at a computer perched beneath the "Holy Trinity" trailer shrine: pictures of JFK and Elvis with Jesus between them, all tastefully portrayed on black velvet). You’re going to remind me how tragic it is that another member of this selfless family of public servants has been cut down in the prime of life. Please. A couple of multi-millionaires ran for office and got whacked; that does not make them selfless public servants. Mahatma Gandhi was born flat broke and when he dropped dead on the job he left his kids an inheritance of three diapers, and two of them were soiled. Now there’s a public servant.

I think its time to remind everyone of a few facts about the Kennedys that are conveniently glossed over when something like this happens:

1. Joe Kennedy, the patriarch of the family, made his millions as a "bootlegger" during Prohibition. This occupation no longer exists, so for those who are unfamiliar with the term, the closest similar modern job description would be "crack dealer."
2. John F. Kennedy Sr. is reported to have engaged in torrid sexual relationships with movie stars on his desk in the Oval Office. Please remember that we impeached the current president for accepting a tepid handjob in a dark hallway.
3. The short list of crimes alleged against various members of this family includes, but is not limited to: Smuggling, racketeering, trafficking in a controlled substance, voter fraud, adultery, consensual sodomy, driving under the influence, leaving the scene of an automobile accident, vehicular homicide, aiding and abetting in the commission of a felony, felony mayhem in the form of nonconsensual lobotomy, statutory rape of a minor child, and felony forcible rape. The list of allegations against Caligula was shorter by half.

I could go on… and on… and on, but the point is, we didn’t lose a member of Mother Teresa’s convent here. I know, I know; John-John didn’t do any of those awful things, he was an innocent young man… Please. Before we forget, even though it took him two or three shots at the Bar exam, Junior was a lawyer. There is no such thing as an innocent lawyer; the only time the words "innocent" and "lawyer" should be used in the same sentence is in a news story about an indictment: "The dirty, treacherous, scumbag lawyer lied when he told the judge that Mr. Kennedy, his child-molesting client, was innocent."

Besides, did Junior forget about the Kennedy history in airplanes? Jesus, Joe Kennedy Jr. was killed in a World War II plane crash: apparently he volunteered to fly over Berlin with something like six thousand pounds of explosives and "I nailed your Frauline on a bed of bratwurst, you egg-sucking krauts!" painted on the plane's belly, next to a bullseye. Or something like that; Paul told me about it, so it must be true.

Yes, a lot of the Kennedys have died in sudden and violent fashions, and I think people feel bad for them because we would be devastated if something similar happened in our families. However, as F. Scott Fitzgerald pointed out, the very rich are different than us. I think we all have to remember that what has happened to some of the Kennedys will never happen to us; will never happen to any normal people.

You and I will never be killed while flying our $300,000 private plane to Martha’s Vineyard to drop off our sister-in-law to spend the weekend at our family mansion. If JFK Jr. worked in a factory he would have taken the Vineyard Ferry, enjoyed a cold Bud while standing next to his ’95 Chevy, and he would be alive today.

You and I will never be hunted down by a lone gunman or a group of conspiring hitmen. If President Kennedy had been born John F. Smith, he’d be in a nursing home today boring the nurses with that story about the time he was on leave in Manila during the Big One and saw a stripper do the ping-pong ball trick.

We will never be killed trying to play football while skiing down the expert slope stone drunk. This one isn’t even actually about money: you’d have to pretty fucking stupid to try these three things at once, I don’t care if your name’s Michael Kennedy or Miguel El Retardo.

John F. Kennedy Jr. was the son of a President of the United States and a prominent member of a family commonly described as "America’s Royalty." He was born a famous multi-millionaire who started a national magazine on a whim when he decided that he didn’t like his day gig at the DA’s office. He married a fashion model after he broke up with movie star Daryl Hannah, and lived with his wife in a part of Manhattan that most of us couldn’t afford to buy gum in. He probably did more cool stuff in June than most of us could do if we lived to be a thousand.

If you live an extraordinary life, sometimes you die an extraordinary death. While it's too bad Junior died that way, let's face reality: young or old, peacefully or violently, one way or the other, every member of the Kennedy family is going to die, just like you and me... except maybe for Teddy. Teddy’s lived through a plane crash, a car crash and forty years of hard drinking that would embarrass Nicholas Cage’s character from Leaving Las Vegas. I’m beginning to think that the only way to kill Teddy involves holy water and a crucifix.

If I may offer a final suggestion: the Kennedys have enough money; they should maybe move away from the Massachusetts shore. These people do not have good luck with the water. Maybe Kansas, someplace completely landlocked and with no grassy knolls.

Main Archive Table of Contents

August, 1999 Issue Table of Contents

  Dead Kennedys   Fast Times   Secret of My Happiness

Month in Pictures   Blue Moon

Stupidity   George W. Bush   Escape From Ricky Martin   

The American Jerk™ and all contents © 1999 - 2005 by Rob Reuter and Paul St. Fakename, Esq., © 2006 by Rob Reuter.