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PRINCE: If Sexual Healing Could Raise You From The Grave

It was like people were asking where were you when JFK got shot. Hearing about Prince’s death honestly depressed me.

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PRINCE: If Sexual Healing Could Raise You From The Grave

Samuel L. Jackson tweeted:

“I’m Crushed!! UK news reporting Prince Is Dead?! For Real?! Massive Loss for us all! What a Genius! Speechless.”

With respect to Prince and Samuel L. Jackson, I don’t know why the tough-talking actor didn’t tweet, “Prince was a bad mother fucker. A bad mother fucker died today. Is this shit for real? Cuz that nigga even made me feel sexy.”

With Jimi Hendrix in the ground, Michael Jackson in the grave, Richie Haven’s eyes forever shut, and Prince keeling over from an alleged “cold,” it seems all the music masters are dead.

A generation of greats and a legacy of cool grinding music died with Prince. Prince’s unusual and vibrant musical style was so unique and seductive that calling it pop cheapens his sound. Prince wasn’t a creation for the media. He wasn’t a sound that Disney invented for Justin Bieber fans. He was a real artist and a real freak.

If Prince were a Greek God, he would be Pan. Luckily, Minneapolis gave us something more appealing than a hedonistic goat man. They gave us Superman. Just kidding, that was Metropolis. Learn your pop references because I’m on a Gilmore Girl roll.

Like I was saying, Minneapolis gave us a purple-loving, perm-wearing, nipple-showing, hedonistic Prince, who was the personification of sex. He was sex glorified and magnified, androgynous and twiggy. A smooth electric guitarist with so much sexual charisma, even Samuel L. Jackson would fuck his lights out. Prince was HOT HOT HOT. He was HOTTER THAN THE CAST OF BAYWATCH.

He wrote music that got us excited about fucking. This in turn got our blood pumping and inspired us to puff our chests out and live life to the fullest and in the moment. We carpe-diem the hell out of the hot stranger at the bar because of Pussy Control, because of Erotic City, because of Do It All Night and Delirious.

Because of Prince we were proud of our hard-ons. We were proud of getting wet. We didn’t need Viagra. We were in the midst of a sexual revolution. Yes, Prince was a music legend, genius, beautiful-tiny-little-beef-cake-man, who was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2004, but above being a musician, he was an advocate for sex. We learned about our sexuality with Prince. A lot of us probably touched ourselves to Prince.

Prince was the ultimate sex icon. People say Michael Jackson redefined the way we looked at skin color. Prince was certainly a blur between genders. Maybe he just did what people in big hair bands do, which is blow it out and put on makeup, but there was something a little feminine and mysterious about Prince, besides his female alter ego Camille. It might be why everyone dug him. Can you dig?

When I heard Prince died, I sat back and my world went gray because the color evaporated. It was like I was in the movie The Giver, and I wasn’t allowed to feel human. It was like people were asking where were you when JFK got shot. Hearing about Prince’s death honestly depressed me.

I loved Michael Jackson, but his death didn’t seem to catch me off guard. It was like Michael Jackson was so pale and enough of his nose fell off that I expected him to keel over any day, but it shocked me hearing Prince died. It seemed a little too soon and therefore bizarre.

First, I heard about his death from word of mouth. People in the streets were saying he died from pneumonia. I heard this one guy say he died at 97. This other guy didn’t even know who Prince was, so I started singing Raspberry Beret, and that song got stuck in my head all day.

It’s weird I picked that song of all songs because I would have never declared it was my favorite Prince song, but when you bust into a Prince song spontaneously on the day of his death, that says something and begs the question, what is your favorite Prince song??? (Leave in the comments below.)

Anyways, when I got home, I googled Prince’s death, and the first result that popped up for me was the death of Prince’s Prodigy and I was relieved, like I thought my friend was dead for an hour and found out it was someone else’s friend. I was relieved to think people on the streets misrepresented information, but then it was later confirmed my brown-sugar-honey-bear (BSHB) was in fact dead. #fuck

Now, because there have been allegations Prince died from AIDS, let me address the rumors. It would not be surprising if Prince had AIDS. He was known for being promiscuous. Towards the end of his career, he tended to wear a lot of clothes and makeup. We could assume he was covering up the unsightly effects of the disease.

Having this unfortunate disease would explain why the news is reporting Prince died from a cold. Assuming Prince has the best publicist money can buy, they would never confirm these allegations with a blood test and they would deny all claims even if it were true, which means fans can only theorize.

Think about it, a guy with a deadly incurable disease would no longer be a sex icon. In fact, he would become an example of why you should not have sex and Jehovah’s Witnesses would have a field day with him. Jehovah’s Witnesses are those annoying people who knock on your doors at odd hours of the day trying to convert you.

Seriously, even if Prince died from AIDS, who gives a fuck. Prince was cool as hell. He had a great life. He left behind spectacular music. His only mistake was not wearing a condom.

Dying at 57 and living like a boss. BRAVO, the remarkable Prince, ladies and gentlemen.

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