Jeff Death- Jeff-Isms

Jeff’s one true genius was the obscene one-liner. He could make a statement that was so vulgar and obscene and inappropriate that it stuck out in your head for days, weeks, years. A latter day Henny Youngman, he could turn and touching tender scene into one of hard laughter and evil intent, with but a few syllables bouncing from his lips.

“Hand might be fucked up but there’s nothing wrong with the pussy.”

A Jeff classic and one repeated over and over again. It began during a Medicine Hour. Initially when we started them we planned to watch “The Greatest Films of All Time” and then discuss them over chilled glasses of wine. Of course, like everything we do, it degenerated into horror films (and beyond) so low budget and cheesy that the old Grindhouses would be embarrassed by them. This night we were watching the Italian classic House of Psychotic Women. The film contained three women characters and in our drunken state we began to divide them up between us. Brain got first dibs on the hot red- head, who turned out to be a nympho and really slept around. I, being in the bathroom when they were carved up, got stuck with the attractive ginger haired  lady who was confined to a wheelchair, but who could actually walk and turned out to the be the psychotic killer whacking everyone. Jeff took the long haired brunette with the crippled hand. It was gnarled and twisted up and seemed to be missing a few fingers. When we jibed him about his cinemagraphic love’s condition, he merely shrugged and said, “Hand might be fucked up, but there’s nothing wrong with the pussy.

“Did I ever tell you about the time my dick swelled up and turned black?”

A statement Jeff would blurt out during a lull in the conversation, or whenever he met a new person. Jeff, age settling on him, had begun to develop a paunch. Nothing overly dramatic, but to one of the body building class, a definite flaw to be looked down on with shame and disgrace. So did Jeff resort to the old school method of “eat less and exercise?” NO! He decided to go mainstream with the situation and get himself a tummy tuck. Now the problem was, when they tuck your tummy, there’s a lot of wrenching on the skin and a large portion of the lower abdomen gets bruised, including the groin area. Jeff described the aftereffects as one of the most painfully and psychological damaging things he has ever gone through. It was similar to when you burn a hotdog, and was similar to a charred cylinder sticking out. No man wants to think about this, and to actually pull down your pants and see it attached to you… ha, talk about the mother of all mind fucks. Because deep down, no matter what you’re told or how much they reassure you, you’ll always be a little afraid that it will never work again. Can I get an amen on that brothers?

“If we ever go to prison Rex, you can be my bitch!”

One of the few Jeff statements which caused me to shudder. The specific circumstances of this coming up elude me, but Jeff would blurt this out every time we came close to skirting the edge of the law. He would look me up and down, lick his lips, and gleefully spout out this line, laughing at my discomfort. When attacked on this line he would retort, “I’m not gay, but hey… it’s prison.” It reminds me of an old documentary of prison life for 60 minutes, where a grizzled old black guy states, “Some of the best sex I had was in prison.” As you can guess, I was in no hurry to test it out.

“Here it comes… right now!”

From the time when the Medicine Hours had descended into porn. We were watching a 70’s flick, “The Adventures of Candy,” purportedly based on Candide. I could hear Voltaire spinning in this grave. The main character, Candy, meets some kind of sex guru and he takes her back to his place, where there was a particularly large orgy scene, one part of which had a guy (with a typical 70’s porn mustache) felating another man. They were supposedly all attuned to each other, and the guru lifts his hand, snaps his finger, and they all ejaculate at the same time. This included the man receiving the blow job, which spurt out right onto the other man’s mustache and dripped there. Dr. I and Jeff made a few comments about how the blow-job-giver resembled me, which it did not, and insisted on watching that ejaculation scene over and over again, to the point where Jeff could time it perfectly, and when it happened he yelled, “here it comes...right now.”

“I like knockers.”

Jeff’s big line. Repeated over and over again. In this simple sentence he expressed his love for large, gargantuan breasts, and the usually large women that they are attached to. His theory was that the biggest breasts were attached to the biggest women. Which sounds plausible. Of course most people overlook the one aspect of a large woman and react to the package as a whole. To Jeff the large package was an attractive one, so it did not matter. Jeff said his simple motto wherever he went: social gatherings, weddings, bar mitzvahs, funerals. He liked knockers and the whole world needed to know that.

“Hey baby, you want to do the mammary mash?”

Jeff’s great pick up line. The mammary mash, of course, was him grabbing some lucky ladies breasts and squeezing down on them, while giggling like an idiot. It didn’t work very often, and even fat women found this line repulsive, for some strange reason. But it remains indelible upon the mind. Come to think of it, Jeff never picked up any women period, whether he used the line or not. This didn’t stop him from using it, it just always seemed to have the opposite effect than he had intended. As the wise man said, who cares about 99 rejections, he just needed the one who said, “Yes.”

“Getting a blow job from her must be like masturbating with a cheese grater.”

This was a reference to a young lady we knew with a very odd deformity, which caused her face to be twisted up and jaw set at an odd angle, where the teeth grated together. The rest of her body was actually very nice and well proportioned. She hung out with us for awhile, and several of us began discussing her attributes and obvious schizophrenia issues, upon which Jeff makes the classic statement above. None of us could disagree.
For more fun try books by Rex Hurst