To Lenny Bruce
About ten years ago when I was into psychology stuff, I bumped into a guy I knew from high school days. He was an undertaker in Boston and he asked me if I knew anything about suicide.
"Well like what?" I said, in that clinical noncommittal voice I had mastered.
"Cause everytime we get a suicide, it's the weirdest thing but they always got this grin on their faces. No matter how they go: hanging, gas or whatever, they always got this certain grin"
"You sure that's true?"
"No shit, we even got'a name for it in the trade it's called 'THE SHIT-EATIN GRIN' and every one of the fuckers got it...."
"What do you do about it? Like how come nobody but undertakers knows about it?"
"Are you kiddin? We couldn't talk about a thing like that, not in our position. We even have to change the expressions on their face. You know, make em look more serious. They fight like hell even if they're dead. We have to use special needles to relax their face muscles and finally we get em lookin serious enough for the funeral. I mean you just could never bury a guy with a shit-eatin grin, no sir."
This story is for you, Lenny, from all the Yippies
"Dedication to Lenny Bruce" from Abbie Hoffman's Woodstock Nation. $2.95 from Random House, Inc., 201 E. 50th Street, New York, IM. Y. 10022. Reprinted without permission.