Years ago, I met Jack Kevorkian. It was “in passing,” but I did shake his hand and speak with him very briefly. He was cordial and so was I, but all I can remember thinking was how creepy it would be to sit in his rusty VW van… even creepier if he was hooking up IVs. “Death with dignity” isn’t what came to mind.
In any case, Kevorkian has died:
Dr. Jack Kevorkian, the central figure in the tumultuous national drama surrounding assisted suicide, died Friday in a Michigan hospital. He was 83 and lived in Bloomfield Hills, Mich.
Keep in mind that Kevorkian’s death was confirmed by lawyer and serial weasel Geoffrey Feiger, which means I will forever remain skeptical of the veracity of the claim.
By acting like he enjoyed it way too much, Kevorkian was his own worst enemy when it came to arguing in favor of “physician assisted suicide.” Look at him here a few years ago with his contraption — he’s beaming like a proud grandfather posing with his newborn grandson or something:
He leaves behind a van, some syringes and the most macabre paintings this side of Rob Zombie’s basement.