Apparently, now you can be too fat to die, no matter what you’ve done. Thank goodness. Now Azrael, the angel of death, won’t have to come and harvest Ghettoputer’s corpulent self too soon. I’ve got too many good years of shoveling in Buffalo Bills themed ice cream and garbage plates (read the description — maybe the best bad for you food on the planet) before my cholesterol clogged arteries stop my heart.

Mr. Cooey, pictured here, has argued to our gifted judicial betters that his manly girth should prevent the Rust Belt State of Ohio (f/k/a the Connecticut Western Reserve) from putting him to death. Leaving aside for the moment his claim that he’s too fat to die, the gentle reader may be left asking what, in fact, did Mr. Cooey do that would lead the people of the Rust Belt State of Ohio to insist on his death.

Mr Cooey, a gentleman if ever there was one, was convicted by a jury of the fine citizens of the Rust Belt State of Ohio “for raping and murdering two female University of Akron students in 1986,” according to the good folks Mr. Rupert Murdoch employs at the U.S Branch Of NewsCorp, Fox News.

So, to get Mr. Cooey’s argument straight, the state shouldn’t deprive Mr. Cooey of his life because he’s too fat, regardless of his heinous crimes. But, Mr. Cooey can deprive two co-eds of their lives and their sexual congress without consent without commensurate penalty? Ghettoputer thinks not. For some crimes, Ghettoputer sympathizes with the State, despite Ghettoputer’s intense hatred and distrust of the death penalty generally.

Mr. Cooey should thank his lucky stars that Ghettoputer sits not on the Supreme Court of fine Rust Belt State of Ohio. Ghettoputer, presented with similar facts, should rule that indeed lethal injection is inappropriate in this instance, and that perhaps in lieu of lethal injection, the parents of Mr. Cooey’s victims should cover him in honey and bury him in an anthill until such time as Mr. Cooey succumbs to the natural process of death. From ant bites. Or dehydration. Or savage beatings about the head from the locals. Whatever.

Ghettoputer would pray that neither The Lord, nor His messenger Azrael, nor the fine citizens of the Rust Belt State of Ohio (nor the ants) should take Mr. Cooey too quickly.

'Puter

Always right, unless he isn’t, the infallible Ghettoputer F. X. Gormogons claims to be an in-law of the Volgi, although no one really believes this.

’Puter carefully follows economic and financial trends, legal affairs, and serves as the Gormogons’ financial and legal advisor. He successfully defended us against a lawsuit from a liquor distributor worth hundreds of thousands of dollars in unpaid deliveries of bootleg shandies.

The Geep has an IQ so high it is untestable and attempts to measure it have resulted in dangerously unstable results as well as injuries to researchers. Coincidentally, he publishes intelligence tests as a side gig.

His sarcasm is so highly developed it borders on the psychic, and he is often able to insult a person even before meeting them. ’Puter enjoys hunting small game with 000 slugs and punt guns, correcting homilies in real time at Mass, and undermining unions. ’Puter likes to wear a hockey mask and carry an axe into public campgrounds, where he bursts into people’s tents and screams. As you might expect, he has been shot several times but remains completely undeterred.

He assures us that his obsessive fawning over news stories involving women teachers sleeping with young students is not Freudian in any way, although he admits something similar once happened to him. Uniquely, ’Puter is unable to speak, read, or write Russian, but he is able to sing it fluently.

Geep joined the order in the mid-1980s. He arrived at the Castle door with dozens of steamer trunks and an inarticulate hissing creature of astonishingly low intelligence he calls “Sleestak.” Ghettoputer appears to make his wishes known to Sleestak, although no one is sure whether this is the result of complex sign language, expert body posture reading, or simply beating Sleestak with a rubber mallet.

‘Puter suggests the Czar suck it.