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5:30 a.m. - 2002-05-07



I've said it before and I'll say it again...there are some sick bastards out there.

I had 3,336 people hit this site yesterday, looking for Lisa Lopes Autopsy Photos, which is my new favorite phrase in the whole wide world, narrowly beating out "Hey! Get my penis out of your mouth this instant!"

Because I'm a firm believer in giving the people what they want, I will now produce for you sick bastards.

I only have one photo of Ms. Lopes in her lovely autopsy pose. And here it is...














As you can see, this photo was taken minutes after the crash. The car is still at an angle with its wheels still spinning in the air. The pain on Lisa's face is excrutiating and her knees are pretty scraped up which could be the result of the wreck or from shooting heroin in them, but they look like they were scraped up from her falling on sidewalks or something. Notice one eye open and one eye shut. Notice that it's the LEFT EYE that is shut. Remember...Lisa "Left Eye" Lopes was born without a left eye socket, hence her professional, yet somewhat cruel, nickname.

So there you go. An authentic Autopsy Photo of Lisa Lopes which should insure me more hits than God.



You caught me.

That ISN'T Lisa "Left Eye" Lopes. That's my son trying to get out of a baby stroller and panicking because he's about to tip over and his Daddy would rather take pictures of him than help him.

And yes, my fireplace could use some cleaning. Damn. I had no idea it was so nasty until I saw this photo.

But here's the deal.

Because I'm a firm believer in giving the people what they want, I DO have one single autopsy photo of Lisa Lopes that I scoured the web to find.

Apparently, these pics are scarce for some reason. Which is kinda amusing because I found it on the first website that I went to.

Whether this is real or not is anybody's guess. I'm not saying if it's real or fake. You be the judge.

Out of respect for the decent people who come here every day to read what I have to say and not look at photos of dead celebrities, I will provide a link to the photo, rather than splashing it up on this site and freaking people out.

This is not a joke. This is an actual photo that is purportedly an autopsy photo of the woman. Don't click on the next link if you don't want to see a medical photo of a dead woman. I'm deadly serious and I didn't mean for that pun to just slide out. This is a real dead person's photo coming up. If you can't take it, don't click on it.

But for those of you who came here to find a Lisa Lopes Autopsy here.

I've got to's not that disgusting. It's a woman in her pajamas with a big bruise on her head. I's disturbing and wrong. But if you sick bastards are coming here and looking for it, I feel like I could at least accomodate you.

Now...if I start getting thousands of Google Hits for "Uncle Bob Nude Photos" ... THEN we know that the patients have taken over the asylum.

Finally...a little joke for you patient kiddies...

What was the last thing going through Lisa Lopes mind as she crashed?

The steering wheel.

Boy, did I have a nightmare waiting on me when I got home last night from work.

I pull up into the driveway and Susie's talking to a gigantic African-American guy in the doorway. No biggie. She's a crackwhore. This doesn't surprise me.

As it turns out, he wasn't one of her "tricks" or her "johns"...he was there to replace the bad wood around the house to help sell the house. Nice guy. Slight speech impediment though. Every time he said "If your life is lonely, I'll take you where it's at", it sounded like he was saying "If your wife would blow me, I'll give her some crack."

I was pretty funny the first time I thought that's what he said. But he kept repeating it over and over again. And personally...I don't need to go where it's at, thank you. I'm fine where I'm at.

So anyway, he goes back to working on the house and rubbing his johnson while leering at my wife when my wife makes an announcement that I never thought I'd hear.

"Nosy Assed Neighbor is inside."

Inside?? Inside her house? Inside her car? Inside a shallow grave, screaming for help???


Inside OUR HOME.

I panicked. I had to make a quick decision. Either I could jump back in the mini-van and flee to Europe. Or I could walk inside and start kung-fuing all over the place until I hurt me a nosy assed neighbor.

Since I don't really know any decent kung-fu moves and I really had to pee, I came inside.

"Uncle Bawwwwwwwb...your house looks sooooo niiiiiiice insiiiiiide," she said in her thick southern drawl.

"Thanks," I said, glaring at my arch enemy if you don't count my in-laws. "We've worked hard to get this house on the market."

"Ah've neverrrrr had a house on the marrrrrrrket," she said, obviously desperate for conversation or she'd be out of my house and back over at her house with her howling Nosy Assed Dogs by now.

"Me neither!" Susie chirped up.

I shot Susie a look that I tried to make say "Don't encourage the woman with conversation!" but she must have misread the look as saying "Invite the woman to move in with us."

They chattered for a few more minutes and NAN was halfway pleasant. By that I mean, she didn't say anything negative about our house and our chances of selling it. And she did her best to control her bowels and not take a steaming dump in the middle of our den. Which she's been known to do in other homes. Okay. Not really. But I thought if I said that, you guys might start thinking worse of her and be more on my side during these stories.

She left and we had to run out to our new neighborhood to look at homes in the new section of the subdivision and pick out a brick color that we liked.

Honestly...I don't care what color bricks we have on the house. I know it's one of the first things people will see when they pull up in our driveway, but each brick color is just like the last one.

Susie, on the other hand, knows her bricks. Maybe that's because crack comes in bricks or something. I dunno. I've never smoked crack. She's the crackwhore here...not me.

So we're idling through the neighborhood as Susie is regaling me with the details of each brick she sees.

"Too orange, too grey, too red, too ugh, too dark, too light."

Finally, she's sees a brick color she likes. Not too orange, grey, red, ugh, dark or light.

"Do you like that color?" she asks me.

Maybe I'm colorblind, I dunno. I mean...I see colors. But they don't necessarily repulse me like they do her. They're bricks. I can't get too wound up over bricks.

"Yeah, that color's great," I've learned to say in my 16 years with the woman.

...Then why the hell did "I dunno" come tumbling out of my mouth?

"You don't know?" she asks. "What is it about that color that you don't know about?"



"I didn't mean I don't know," I said, like a drowning man about to go under for the final time. "I meant it's probably the best color I've seen tonight, but I want to see all of our choices when we go to the Design Center on Wednesday."

There was one wrong word in that statement.

"Probably???" she asks. "It's PROBABLY the best color??"

"It IS the best color,that's what I meant," I said, visibly sweating. "I just...I'm trying to drive and not hit little children out in the street and I'm trying to concentrate on the road and look at bricks at the same time."

"Do we need to stop the car and walk?" she asked.

"No," I said. "I like that color. It's the best color brick in the neighborhood. We will be the envy of all those around us with that color brick on our home. People will egg our home because it will be so beautiful and they will be jealous and try to de-beautify it but it won't work because these are the greatest bricks in the world and they will just shun the eggs and the eggs will evaporate in thin air and everything will be okay and damn, that's a mighty fine brick color you've picked out there."

"I don't want to be the one responsible for picking out the color of brick and you hating the color in a year," she said.

Okay. There's no way in Hell I'm ever going to be sitting around our new home and blurt out "You know hon...I hate the color of bricks we have on this house, so I'm leaving you and the boy and moving to Colorado where I'll get a job flipping burgers at a diner for minimum wage and eventually marry some divorced woman ten years older than me who doesn't have much money, but she's got a big heart and more importantly, she has a tiny home with the exact color brick that I want on my house."

I truly LIKED the color that she picked out. It's fine with me. Looked good on the house we saw and was probably the best color brick in the neighborhood.

Tomorrow we go to the Design Center to pick out wall colors, cabinets, tile, vinyl flooring, carpets, wallpaper, ceiling fixtures, counter tops and whatever the hell else they have to offer.

I'm afraid.

I'm VERY afraid.

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