Living up to the adage “there’s no fool like an old fool,” a 73 year-old Ohio man who’d died of a heart attack while exercising in a swimming pool with his 41 year-old transgendered wife in June, 2008 was recently proven to have bought it as a result of his man-cum-woman bride’s reckless, homicidal behavior. And also an overdose of embarrassment at having married her back in 2006 in Kentucky, instead of on the Today Show, which seems to have sunk to this level of sordidness over the years, coincidentally. Kentucky, as it happens, allows people to change the gender listed on their birth certificates, which would be mildly shocking were it not for the fact that hey, it’s Kentucky; where the men are men, and the sheep are nervous. And first cousins are usually just called “man and wife.”
Anyway, a local officer who’d previously investigated other complaints of possible abuse of the husband by his transgendered wife became increasingly suspicious after observing a surveillance video which showed the bereaved widow preventing John Mason — who was obviously in physical distress — from leaving the swimming pool, despite FORTY-THREE attempts by “her” husband to do so. Claiming her elderly, though very virile (and apparently mentally unstable) mate was just engaged in physical training to prepare for an upcoming audition for next season’s Survivor: Tranny Island, Christine Newton-John had maintained her complete innocence over the months, despite the events depicted in the video. The widow, who’d undergone sex-reassignment surgery in 1993, told police Mason had lately felt he’d been losing some of his masculinity, and that he just wasn’t the babe magnet he’d been over the previous sixty-odd years. Newton-John (who’d been born John Vallandingham), in an attempt to help her beloved regain the studliness which had attracted females and men-who-wished-to-become-females to his side like a bottle of Two-Buck Chuck attracts flat-broke winos, maintained that all the head-slapping, nut-punching and other frivolity depicted in the video was nothing more than a prelude to the furious, unbridled and steamy-hot passion she and her husband shared on a nightly basis, despite the 32-year difference in their ages.
Declaring her innocence right up until the time she declared her guilt, the murderous he-she killer from the depths of Dante’s second circle of hell continued to expound on Mason’s undoubted prowess in the “do that to me one more time” department, even in the face of admitting she’d relentlessly driven him to a massive heart attack, and a last, sweetly poignant, 73 year-old man’s orgasm. But mostly, a fatal heart attack.
There’s a number of what we in the news business refer to as “WTF moments” in this story, as it happens. Beside the fact we think “what the fug” sounds funny in and of itself, surely somewhere along the line somebody had to have taken Mason aside and said “duuuuuuude, what the fug!?!”
We’re fairly certain men and “women-who-were-once-men” get married all the time out in San Francisco or up in New York. No doubt about it. But when did the Bluegrass State decide it suddenly wanted to vie with California for the “we’ll marry anybody, at any time or any place” crown? What? The Kentucky Derby wasn’t enough anymore? All of a sudden, an aching need suddenly arose among the populace to be famous for more than a horse race and a propensity for making the phrase “kissing cousins” actually be about, well…real, madly passionate, kissing cousins?
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