It’s been ten years since Kurt Cobain killed himself. Actually I missed the anniversary yesterday.

The unfortunate event seemed like a big deal at the time, but right about now it seems like a minor footnote to the whole grunge era. Speaking of grunge have you seen or heard any grunge music lately? Probably not. Any kids saying they want to be Kurt Cobain these days? That I can’t answer, but my bet is no.

The only thing I ever see when thinking about Kurt is his widow Courtney Love. Consider her recent court appearance ( with slight paraphrasing for entertainment purposes ).

Judge: How do you plead to these charges?
Courtney: My attorney is fired!
Judge: On what grounds?
Courtney: His tie is ugly. He must die! This court is a sham!
Judge: You’re not doing yourself any favors.
Courtney: Attorney rehired!
Judge: Are those needle tracks on your arms?
Courtney: Just some mosquito bites.
Judge: Mosquito bites in March?
Courtney: What can I say judge? Everyone’s looking for a little fix.
Judge: What is that you’re eating?
Courtney: Tic-tacs.
Judge: That looks like phenobarbital from here.
Courtney: I didn’t bring enough to share if that’s what you’re asking.