Good bye Weezie....

ABSTRUSE

Cirque du Freak
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Mar 4, 2003
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Isabel Sanford of 'The Jeffersons' Dies


By RYAN PEARSON, Associated Press Writer

LOS ANGELES - Actress Isabel Sanford, best known as "Weezie," Louise Jefferson on the television sitcom "The Jeffersons," died of natural causes, her publicist said Monday. She was 86.



Sanford died Friday at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, where she had been hospitalized since July 4, said Brad Lemack. Her daughter, Pamela Ruff, was at her side, he said.


Her health had waned after undergoing preventive surgery on a neck artery 10 months ago, Lemack said. He did not give a cause of death.


Sanford co-starred with Sherman Hemsley from 1975 to 1985 on CBS' "The Jeffersons," a spin-off of the popular series "All in the Family," in which she also appeared.


In 1981, Sanford became the first black woman to receive an Emmy for Best Actress in a Comedy Series for her work on "The Jeffersons."


Sanford, a native New Yorker, was joined by "Jeffersons" creator Norman Lear and others in January when she received a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.


"Here with stars in my eyes — something that I dreamed about when I was 9 years old," she said at the time. "There are others that deserve it, but let everybody get their own."


She enjoyed getting fan mail from people who saw "The Jeffersons" for the first time in reruns, Lemack said.


"She was just amazed and so pleased that the show had that kind of lasting power and entertainment because she loved to make people laugh," he said.


Sanford made her feature film debut in the 1967 classic, "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner."


Recently, Sanford lent her voice to "The Simpsons" and appeared in commercial campaigns for Denny's restaurants and retailer Old Navy.


Besides her daughter, Sanford is survived by two sons, seven grandchildren and six great-grandchildren.
 
Dave was, and is, like me, from the wrong side of the track. What's this all about <i>the wrong side</i> of the track? What's this 'boundary'? It could've been wrong side of the river or the wrong side of the planet for all I cared. Whatever it was that made us different from 'them' was sufficient to keep us from getting to <i>the right side</i>. Every boundary you struggled to break free, there'd be another one waiting for us.

The system was set. It always has been.

I could honestly say, without remorse, regret or embarracement, that Dave is, the best friend I ever had and will have. He is the kind of guy who never take shit from anybody. He's the guy who stood up for me and taught me to stand up for myself as we were growing up in a stinking, shitbucket little town.

A word of caution, though. When you stick your neck up, up way too high for your own good, they'll knock you down so hard you'd be spitting your balls straight out of your mouth.

That's the problem with Dave. Sticking his neck up too high. Because he keeps standing up for himself as well as for others, because he doesn't take shit from anyone, he had spent his youth getting in and out of one institution or another. You know those institutions for mentally unstable and criminally inclined.

Although, for me, Dave sounded the most sane and clued up guy around, the state thought other wise, and still do.

When the state get ahold of you, scary shit could happen to you, right? You know those institutions gave you medications. You'd think, "All right. Stay calm. Yep. Medication is what I need." But those medication often are powerful shit. Bomb, if you like. And you know those powerful multiinternational drug corporations are testing new drugs on poor souls in one of those institutions. Billions of dollars are involved in this kind of business. Yeah, people from the right side of the track. For example, just the other day I've read in the paper orphans in New York had been being given pre-aprooval level HIV medications. What's about those people from the right side make them use orphans as lab rats?

I missed Dave a great deal when he was 'inside'. He was my network of reasuarence. My reference point that you're all right. You are not insane.

I suppose Dave and I stuck together struggling to get to the right side of the track because nither of us wanted the worse side of the track. It's so easy to get to the worse side of track. Pimps, drug dealers and organised criminals. Are they worse than multinational corporations that ruin peple's lives?

Dave and I remained to be disorganised occasional criminals.

Sometimes, when Dave was 'inside', I wasn't doing justice to myself. I wasn't coping well. Things went so bad that I went 'inside' as well.

The place I went was not as hardcore as the place Dave was in. Nevertheless, I was in a coo-coo land while Dave was in a la-la land. My room was emacurately shining white. Not a spot was to be seen. I shared the room with five other coo-coos. What characters they were!

Jim was 24. Post-lobotomy vegitable. Well, most of the time. When he's not being a vegitable, Jim thought he was Elvis.

Duglas was 32 and pre-lobotomy. He's fucking nuience. He never quit screaming and shouting abuse at his fellow patients, nursing staff and doctors. He often found himself in isolation room, and still he didn't quit screaming and shouting abuse.

Winslow was only 18. He was a pre-op transsexual who thought he/she was a lesbian. A complicated insanity, this. He was quiet boy who loved the blue pills, so I used to give mine to him in exchange for a red pill which I prefered.

Fenton and Jerry were both 28 and secretly in love with each other. The 'happy' pills - the yellow ones - made them come out of their respective closets. See, that's the thing with the yellow happy pills. They relieved you from deep felt guilt.

Boy, did I love the yellow happy pills! I was so happy I went spreading happiness all over. Winslow and I did some creative trading of pills and I saved up three yellow happy pills and prepared a happy meal for nurse Kelly.

Nurse Kelly was really pretty and nice and kind to me. I'm usually stupendesly crap with pretty girls. If I were with Dave, I would remain in one piece, but without him, I'm a pathetic mumbling idiot in front of pretty girls.

After her happy meal, nurse Kelly and I sneaked off to the privacy of a toilet cubicle on the second floor and we did happy, happy things to each other.

Alas, I couldn't keep taking happy pills forever. The yellow happy pills made me horny and hard but unable to ejacurate. When I was with nurse Kelly in that cubicle, it wasn't joke! I was so hard and desperate for orgasm yet it never came! That was truly unfair as nurse Kelly orgasmed several times.

So, I was out. Discharged myself, pronounced myself cured of all mental illnesses which I doubt I had any in the first place. Low self-esteem. That was all there was. One good fuck with pretty nurse Kelly, I was as happy as puppy with a lisenced to pee anywhere.

Dave was out too. I met up with his cool, calm, corrected self in a bar.

"I'm living it up, buddy!" Dave anouced and downed a shot of tequila. Dave and I never did lemon and salt trick with our tequila as we always got confused about the order of events.

"So, you're out. What's your plan?" I felt up beat now that Dave was out, living it up.

"Plan, my man, is to buy drinks for you to get hammered so that you'd fuck a dead elephant," he said and bought another round. I didn't know how Dave got money so soon after getting 'out'.

I've been hammered before, but never fucked a dead elephant. Just in case you animal rights people are reading this. I have never done it and never will. Take my words.

Much later, Dave and I were waiting in line to get into a night club. A kind of place I might meet a pretty girl who are too drunk so I don't feel so nervous being around. You never know. I might get lucky without the happy pills.

While waiting peacefully, an argument sparked off. It usually involved Dave and soon the sparks egnited bombs and a war broke out.

"I'm talking to you, motherfucker! You piece of shit! Hey, you fuck! Comon, motherfucker. You affraid? You fucking waste of space trush! You motherfucking faggort! What? Are you afraid, faggort?"

I don't know about you, but this kind of language from a woman turned me off. This kind of langues from anyone turns me off, period. She was a pretty girl too, with tall and athletically built body.

"Comon, you fuck! My boyfriend's gonna kick your sorry faggot ass, you motherfucker!"

<font size=4><b><i>WHAM!</i></b></font>

Dave broke her nose in and knocked some of her front teeth out. With blood pouring out of her nose and mouth, the girl didn't look so pretty any more.

All hell broke loose. I gave it all I had. Two against twelve, from which ever you looked at it, was not a fair fight. And that was just the men. Out numbered twenty to two, Dave and I took cover.

In the morning, a conscientious cab driver found two mess of broken bits of Dave and I drenched in rain, and called an emergency. And cops.

Cops usually didn't waste their precious work times for the likes of us, so it seemed rather pointless to press any charges. We had no idea who the hell those people we fought were in the first place. Dave and I stayed in a hospital to get well enough to walk back out again. Which wasn't quick enough for Dave because people from one of those institutions caught up with Dave. It appeared that Dave shouldn't be 'outside' to begin with.

As Dave returned to la-la land, I waited my body to heal. Our bodies are a wonderful thing. If you treat it right, it can do amaging things, sometimes. Possitive thinking heals a body too, I found.

I was feeling ok without Dave for once. I thought of nurse Kelly a lot. What it's like to meet her out side of coo-coo land on an unofficial capacity? Would a kind of guy I am have lasting meaningful relationships with a pretty girl like nurse Kelly? Without the yellow happy pills?

I thought not and went to look for <b>ugly girls</b>. I have no trouble talking and chatting up ugly girls. You know the type: kind of girls who have bits of metals stuck to their face. Kind of girls who have tattoos. What they call them? <i>Suicide girls</i>.

I knew the kind of place where those ugly girls congligated. There were ugly boys too but I had no use for them.

The night club was not even a night club at all. It's a some sort of whearhouse rushly converted into a place those ugly people gather. They had no right selling alcohole. No licensing. In fact, if the secret ever got out, cops would've been happy to come down and bust these ugly people for anything from drug offence to just being plain ugly.

I bought unlicensed beer in plastic cup. The world must have been experiencing inflation judging by the rate of charge I'm getting for my beer.

BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM

Eeeeeeeeee! Zezezeze! Pshew! Pshew! Pshew!

Chi-chi-chi-chi Peeeeeeeeeen!

BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM

Did I tell you how loud this place was? Darnit. The storobo flash lights were making me dizzy. Epilepsy sufferers' living hell. Weren't there laws against discriminating the handicaped? Or the word handicaped politically incorect these days?

I drank a couple of more beers taking in the sights. Conversation in this ugly heaven was a futile activity I wasn't not even bothering.

I noticed one of the suicide girls was looking at me, and she's smiling. The place was dark and with strobo lights flashing it's quite possible she thought I was good looking. Maybe I was as I din't have bits of metals hanging off my facial skin. Unlike my pretty self, she's wearing a silver metal through her right eye brow. A metal stud was poking out from her left nostril. Another silver ring adorned the right coner of her lower lip. She looked like as if a granade had exploded right in front of her face. I guessed her age in that precious niche of 18-21. A woman can make herself a fortune if she was in this niche, but after that, all down hill.

I aproached her smoothly but my smoothness might have been inconsequential under the flashing strobo lights.

"<b>HELLO</b>." I shouted.

"<b>*&%$£*&^%$%£*^%$*!</b>" she shouted back.

"<b>WHAT?</b>" I asked her.

"<b>&^%*$$$&£ YOU %$£*&^* ^%&*&^%</b>"

"<b>GO ON!</b>" I encouraged her though I had absolutly no idea what she's saying.

"<b>YOU &^%$£*&**&& LIKE &%^$£^!</b>"

Our talk went on like this about fifteen minutes.

Soon, we were dancing with the music, with our drunken souls inside out, not really in control of ourselves. Her thigh was pressing against my crotch. A moment later her bottocks and my groin was doing spoon-and-shake move. If she was not aware of what she was doing to my second brain, I might go home and sleep it off. Then, she's trying to swallow my tongue down her throat. She's wearing a metal stud on her tongue too. What's wrong with you, I wanted to ask, but as her tongue moved in my mouth, I was begining to think there might be benefit in wearing a metal stud. Flick it, baby. Flick it!

It's been a while since I had sex. Nurse Kelly, you remember. So, for a quite mysterious and uncomplihensible reason, I've been masterbating. A lot. Since nurse Kelly incident, only hands that touched my penis had belonged to me. And I was now feeling a palm pressed on my crotch. A hand that was much smaller and delicate looking than mine.

BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM

"<b>WOW! WHAT'S UP?</b>"

"<b>%&^%$*&^%! %$£*&^%*&!</b>"

"<b>WHAT? NEVER MIND. KEEP DOING WHAT YOU'RE DOING. IT FEELS GREAT!</b>"

The suicide girl whose name I didn't know zipped down my front with her pair of feminin hands and fished out my growing penis.

Ordinarily, I'd freak out at my penis hanging out on public display, but I was drunk and beyond care, besides, I've been noticing similar sexual activities taking place around me. There seemed to be a group activity was taking place.

"<b>*&^*$%£(*&%!</b>" the suicide girl who was handling my sword shouted and cocked her head to one side, indicating we were on the move. I followed her obediently since she was holding my dick in her right fist.

We settled down against the wall of dark coner. She's smiling mysteriously as she hiked up her short black leather skirt. I checked out her knee high boots and thought it must be a hell of bother doing up all those metal things that bounds half of her legs in.

The fact that she's not wearing any panties worried me. Like, did she do things like this a lot? (As it turned out, I later found she'd just been dumped by her <i>ugly</i> boyfriend - who had cheated on her before dumping her - and she wanted to let her steam off that night by fucking a strenger, and I happened to be there looking like a polar-oposit of what her ex-boyfriend looked like)

She turned and put her hands on the wall, presenting the view of her magnificent back side to me. If I was getting her signals right, she wanted me to put my dick in her pussy from behind.

<i>Kids, never do this at home. Wear condome. Never stick your dick unprotected into the vagina of woman you've just met, no matter how pretty or ugly she might be.</i>

An idiot that I was and still am, I prunged my cock right in.

She's dripping wet already. 'Maybe that's why she wasn't wearing her panties,' I was thinking. From the way this baby was drooling, I could guess her loundry bill mounting. She's fligging her clit furiously and I tried to be helpful and wet my fingers. She's wearing a metal bar on her clit too. It freaked me out to be honest. Anyway, she looked like doing fine with her fligging without my help.

My hips were pumping so my hard cock could get into her sopping pussy and get right back out. I could tell you the front of my pants was in a mess!

I released the pants bottun and pushed my pants and boxer shorts down to my knees. In the process, my cock flipped out so I went right back in.

Holding her hip in my right hand as I fucked her, I rose my right arm high so I looked like a rodeo rider, and I shouted, "Yeehah! Ma, look. One hand!" Luckily for me, my voice wasn't heard by anybody due to the exploding music in the place.

The way I was fucking her, she had better be making those sexy moaning and mewing noises which was the only reason I had sex in the first place: to hear a woman enjoying herself.

BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM

To my surprise, I was tweaking nipples with metal bits on them. 'Nipples beeing constantly erect and sensitive and metal bits being on her clitoris must be the reason she's always dripping wet,' I was thinking. I had no other medical explanation for this, other than nymphomania.

Boys, don't do what I did. I ejacurated in the suicide girl's pussy.

After that, we fixed our clothes and kissed a lot. She, obviously, went to the ladies' room to clean herself up. More beers and then, harder liqurs.

The suicide girl told me her name was Becky once we were out side of the club and I told mine. Apparently, we were now an item and I was going to come back to her place where she shared the house with three other girls. What a guy to do?

Back at her house, in her room, Becky gave me a capsel which was half red and half yellow. I hoped for the best and swallowed.

It was incredible! I could stay hard and ejacurate! I always liked red pills and yellow ones. Becky and I tested my flicking tongue theory and oh boy! God damn, I'm great with ugly girls!

We fucked and slept and fucked and slept for three days and nights. The red/yellow capsel wore itself out in the end. I slept like a baby and when I woke up, I went out of the door, emptied my blodder, and greeted by agreeable view of two pretty girls walking around in the house in their underwears.

Later I found out that the final member of the house hold was an ungly suicide girl like Becky. I thought about it for a while. I'm really good with ugly girls. Why not. You wait till I tell about this to Dave and hell will be the name of this house once he gets here.
 
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