sl-prokeys was born April 5, 1995

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total sl-prokeys hits since April, 2003

On Thursday, August 21, 2003, at 2:45pm, my wife of 34 years, Rebecca, died in my arms in an emergency room.

The last words we spoke were in perfect synchronization: "I love you with all my heart."



Steve Committed Murder


In February, 2000, I committed murder - premeditated murder.  I laughed while I fired that 9mm Glock FOUR TIMES, and, thanks to the laser, I hit right on the red dot every time.  Each shot just made me laugh more. 


It didn't take too long, and the cops showed up.  They asked to come inside my house, and I let them in. 

I had already laid down my gun in clear view - completely unloaded, and locked OPEN.  The Glock was on one table, the clip (magazine) was in another room.  (Obviously, I was completely unarmed when I ALLOWED them into my house.) 


I laughed (very quietly) at the first crew of deputies, and I laughed (very, very quietly) when they couldn't figure out what crime I committed.  I hardly said a word.  I just sat in a chair, and mostly kept my mouth shut.  They were raising Almighty hell on their police radios - I listened quietly, and heard them calling for State Attorneys! 

Immediately, there were more patrol deputies, Sergeants, Lieutenant, and a Captain out here - at least 12 (possibly more) - representatives of the Sheriff's office. 


What I haven't mentioned so far is that I murdered my own TV.    (click the picture)


The deputies were having a hell of a time trying to find a crime to arrest me for.  But I didn't commit any crime.  I just murdered my TV set.  I murdered it IN MY OWN HOUSE - not outside, where a bullet might endanger anyone.  Several patrol deputies were outside my house, crawling around on the ground with their Maglites, (unsuccessfully) trying to find a bullet hole IN THE BRICK FRONT OF MY HOUSE where a bullet might have gotten outside. 

No way - 9mm bullets just couldn't make it through a TV set, and an entertainment cabinet, the inside and outside house walls, and the brick outside wall.


Then we got to the good part.  The Lieutenant and the Captain sent the whole crowd back out on patrol, and they wanted to TALK to me. 

(Keep in mind, I VOLUNTARILY allowed them into my home.  I could have legally told them, "Out!  Either get off my property OR arrest me for a crime RIGHT NOW.") 


They wanted to know why.  Why would anybody shoot their TV?  So I told them the truth - and this really IS the truth.


I used to play music.  I lived in Memphis, but frequently flew to California to work with Ike Turner.

In 1970 or 1971, a very unusual event occurred.  I was in California, working with Ike.  One evening, we were sitting in his house, watching TV. 

Ike was getting EXTREMELY pissed off at all the commercials, and, after awhile, he pulled his .45 out, and blew the fucking TV apart.

That memory has stayed with me FOREVER!  It was the kind of thing you can never forget!

And THAT became my life-long FANTASY!

If Ike can murder his Goddamn TV - I CAN, TOO!


So, about 30 years later, I had my chance to (very safely) shoot my own TV and kill the son of a bitch. 

If you click the picture above, you'll BELIEVE something: THAT TV wasn't going to no repair shop - it was stone cold DEAD.


The Lieutenant was a mouthy, aggressive, obvious man-hating female.  (I recognized that real quick - there was no question in MY mind what HER sexual orientation was.) 

But my self-control was turned "on" - I didn't stand at attention, salute, and say, "Yes, SIR!" to "her".  I just politely ignored "her".   


The Captain was a First Class, A-1, professional gentlemanHe was really a pleasure to talk to.  I actually enjoyed our conversation.


They couldn't figure out anything to charge me with, so they couldn't arrest me.  

I explained to them I waited about 30 years to make this fantasy come true.  Maybe they thought I was crazy for blowing up a perfectly good TV, but I could tell the Captain kind of identified with my thinking, even though he didn't say it out loud. 

Who gives a damn?  It's just a TV. 


I couldn't keep this a secret, so I called Ike to tell him about it.  I started out real serious. 

First, I asked if he remembered shooting his TV - yes, he sure did.  Then I told him that was MY life-long fantasy, too. 

He burst out laughing, because he didn't know that.  And he also mentioned that Elvis Presley did exactly the same thing.    


Then I turned on my "Richard Pryor Mode".   

Me: "Ike - I shot my TV .... that first shot felt so good, I shot it 4 times! .... 'n sparks 'n shit was flyin'! .... 'n smoke 'n shit was comin' out! .... 'n I swear - the son of a bitch exploded!

THAT got him howling with laughter.  I know his blood pressure went WAY up.  Then I stopped for a minute and let him calm down. 

When I told him the rest of it - the cops, the Sergeants, the freak Lieutenant, and a Captain - he damn near collapsed!

Me: "Ike?  That TV used up its last commercial - I de-commercialized it!"

He told me he almost hit the floor - he was hysterical - choking with laughter - and I ain't lyin'. 

He couldn't even TALK for about 5 minutes - all I could hear was him goin' CRAZY .... laughing. 


Sometimes it's great to LIVE your fantasies.