Jimmy Buffett Will Kill You! Nine Ways to Die in Margaritaville
|Wastin' away with Jimmy Buffett.|
But that's bullshit. The place is a death trap. And that's especially true since 99 percent of Buffet's fans (AKA Parrotheads) are rapidly aging ex-hippies who've crapped away the last 35 years guzzling endless 40-ounce frozen cocktails on the beach, passing out in the sand, and roasting like human turkeys in the blazing subtropical sun.
For decades, these people have subsisted on a terribly unhealthy diet of ol' Jimmy's conch fritters, chicken wings, chili nachos, barbecue bacon burgers, and all-you-can-smoke square grouper. Meanwhile, the only exercise a paunchy, sunburnt, middle-aged Parrothead will ever get is doing the Buffett shuffle to Don't Stop the Carnival.
So yeah, "island escapism" is a dangerous lifestyle. It will kill you. And here are nine ways to die in Margaritaville.
Trippin' Over Your Own Flip-Flops
Blow out a flip-flop. Step on a pop-top. Contract a nasty case of botulism. Less than 48 hours later, you're a freaking corpse.
Last January, ol' Jimmy fell off the stage during a concert in Sydney, Australia. He escaped with minor injuries. But if the average Parrothead tried to pull the same stunt, his or her tequila-softened skull would've just cracked open like a rotten coconut.
Tannin' Till You Die
Just an FYI: While you're sunning your leathery hippie hide and the prince of all Parrotheads is singin' "All of those tourists covered with oil ... Smell those shrimp they're beginnin' to boil," there's a kiloton of ultraviolet radiation burning a cancerous hole in your back.