It was 5:00 yesterday morning, as I type this, when I was awakened by the sudden urge to take a big shit. I’d taken my phone with me, since there were no books in there to read. Within a few minutes I’d received a notification from Yahoo! News which read: “Jimmy Buffett, Singer-Songwriter Who Turned ‘Margaritaville’ into an Empire, Dies at 76”. I was too tired to really show excitement at that moment; but it certainly made my shit that much more glorious – probably because Jimmy Buffett was just that, shit!

It was later in the morning when I received the following greeting from the owner of the Lift for Satan clothing line:

“Good morning friend, let me start off the day with the good news that Jimmy buffet is DEAD!!! Enjoy that cheeseburger in hell you dork haha”.

You think he was just a tad more excited about this than even I?

But since I don’t intend to make this too long of a post, here are some things I will NEVER forgive his ass for:

He apparently coined the phrase “It’s 5 O’ Clock Somewhere”.

It’s true. It’s actually a song he wrote and performed with country artist/fellow homo Alan Jackson. The phrase is just fucking stupid and so is the fucking song. Are you that idiot that uses the term “It’s 5 O’ Clock Somewhere” as an excuse to have a drink? You have far bigger problems to worry about!

And you sound retarded.

He Ruined a Good Portion of Key West.

See, in the years preceding Jimmy’s arrival to Key West from Mississippi, Key West was just a bohemian, counterculture-oriented remote island city off the Florida coast. Was it the best place to be back then? Hardly. But in the 70’s even New York City – which was home to an INDESCRIBABLE music and art scene! – was a literal Hell on Earth! However, as economics go, rent in these cities was still cheaper than a $2 hooker.

But that was the allure of Key West. Unless you were living there, and knew where to go for a good time, the place was truly a mystery in the decades preceding the internet. Jimmy came along, and he later would donate money to help save the manatees. Ok, that’s admirable and I can respect that. But things changed when just a few years later he opened up a restaurant/souvenir shop named after his signature song (more on that later) in Key West.

What followed was massive financial success via the tourism it brought in. It sure sounds good on paper until you find out that Jimmy would go on to buy more and more properties, which would include more restaurants, hotels, and even retirement communities. And what does this lead to in Key West, as it would any other not-so-well-to-do place that’s generating that much money? Gentrification, something I’ve ranted about a few times on here over the years. And suddenly, Key West natives that were living there before Jimmy even arrived in 1971 can barely afford to stay there.

Thanks a lot, you ass!

His fans are “Parrotheads”

As the Lift for Satan guy said to me yesterday morning, Jimmy Buffett essentially wrote music enabling middled aged, white jackasses to get shitfaced. Jimmy described it as “escapism”. Uh huh, sure thing, buddy. These rabid fans have taken part in actual Jimmy Buffett Conventions taking placing in Key West every year since 1985. They all come down with their parrot hats, flip flops and Hawaiian shirts – all Jimmy’s signature garb! – and they couldn’t wait to see Jimmy play on the Parrothead Cruise.

That’s not a convention, that’s a fucking cult!

He wrote “Margaritaville”

Released in 1977, this absolute shit-sterpiece of a song jump started the fledgling career of an undeserving Jimmy Buffett. It also gave aspiring beach bums everywhere a reason to flock down to Key West, ultimately ruining it, as their money enabled him to turn that one song into an empire the likes of which I personally hope I never see or hear of again because it’s that cultish and fucking gay. I guess everyone was able to relate to a song about some moron who ran off to a beach resort to hide from his self-inflicted problems and drink his sorrows away(?).

The Aftermath

So where do we go from here? He’s dead. Much like when certain politicians bought themselves a third term as New York City mayor, it’ll take an awfully long time to get the stench of Jimmy Buffett the fuck out of the Florida Keys in particular. Yeah, Jimmy has chain restaurants and hotels scattered throughout other parts of Florida as well as the country as a whole. There was even a Cheeseburger in Paradise restaurant not too far from where I live. But what I can only hope for now is that, in time, the fake beach bums and tourists will sooner or later get over themselves, stop using that idiot’s music as an excuse to get shitfaced, get rid of the stupid Hawaiian shirts and flip flops, and realize that much like the guy that was actually from Mississippi, they never really were true islanders.