They say you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead — but no one said you couldn’t be honest.
And really, I never listen to what “they” say anyways.
Mitch Lucker, vocalist for Suicide Silence, is dead.
He died this morning from injuries sustained during a motorcycle accident.
In a statement,the band’s label, Nuclear Blast, offered “our condolences to his family, friends, band members and fans worldwide who are affected by this loss.”
The statement also says: “He left us doing what he loved to do most. He was 28 years old and will be sorely missed.”
I feel bad for his friends and family. Especially his daughter. It’s sad.
So, I hope people don’t take this the wrong way.
But, in my experience, and from what reliable people have confirmed, Mitch was kind of a dick. But that’s OK. I’m a dick too, and when I die, I’d expect someone to fucking say it. Because that’s the fucking truth.
Maybe I interviewed Mitch on off-days or something. It’s possible.
We always remember the dead differently. If a guy’s an asshole alive, you’re not supposed to say he was an asshole once he’s dead. We like to re-write history.
Well, Mitch had his flaws. It’s not cool he’s dead, but…at least he didn’t commit suicide. That would have been ironic, in some weird way.
This is why I don’t ride motorcycles.
If you enjoyed this post, please consider leaving a comment or subscribing to the RSS feed to have future articles delivered to your feed reader.