"I'll Take Myself Out" Maybe. Maybe not.

So one of the world's most annoying keyboard show-offs is gone. (No, no RICK WAKEMAN, the OTHER one).

As a sage blogger pointed out, it's no great loss for those of us who quickly tired of his terrible progrock (in two different annoying bands).

Many with little taste, will be leaving "RIP, man" and "Too bad" messages in forums. There will be Christers and Zinfarts who will use this suicide as a reason to get "nice comments" for themselves, and throw EVERY nice and 'elpful album on their blogs as "tribute." Oooh, "thanks, man, for caring so much as to give away all his music on this sad and mournful day. You are truly SENSITIVE."

What IS sad is that he was in such bad shape that he saw no way out. No reason to wish somebody dead just because he was a show-off and played annoying 9 minute songs. 9 minutes? Longer in concert, of course. No less a genius than Johnny Rotten once complained about it: “I’ve told Keith in no uncertain terms that what put me off his band were those 20-minute organ solos."

The catch-phrase is that suicide is "a permanent solution to a temporary problem," but it doesn't seem so fuckin' temporary when a person is in pain, and sees no hope.

And yet, let's take a look at a much better keyboard player than Kreep Hemmorhoid.

His pained expression seems to be saying, "My hands...what's happened to my hands...I can't play..."

No, he couldn't. Not with progressive supranuclear palsy.

Dudley's life was shuffling around, falling down a lot, and having NOBODY caring about him except one FAN who took him into her home. How this guy could be "cuddly Dudley" and yet end up with absolutely nobody concerned for his welfare, I have no idea. The thing that brought him to tears was knowing he couldn't play the piano.

He didn't seem to be too concerned about not being able crack jokes.

Well, there you have it, one guy allegedly offs himself because his fingers are getting numb. Meanwhile, a much better pianist hangs around despite not being able to play at all.

Another study in contrasts would be the late great Paul Frees, who openly said "I'll take myself out" if he didn't feel life was worth living. And he did. He didn't seem to be in any great physical misery, but his voice had aged and wasn't as flexible as it used to be. He didn't seem to see any future with his latest girlfriend, with whom he'd had an argument. So he took pills and that was it.

Compare that to a certain guy who was known in a certain forum as Redmars. He was a musician. He had a wife and family. And he decided to hang around even as ALS robbed him of his mobility. Gradually, he was becoming mummified. He couldn't even feed himself. And yet, he didn't feel his "quality of life" was so terrible that he shouldn't keep sitting around, even if that was just about all he could do.

Odd isn't it, the different thresholds people have, and the different ways they look at adversity. Some see a door shut and open a window, and others shut down completely.

So yesterday a guy figured he had enough.

A bullet had found him
His blood ran as he cried
No money could save him
So he laid down and he died
Ooooh, what a lucky man he was