“I would,” I said, suddenly feeling so angry I knew that I meant it.
“You would not,” added Todd, without looking up from the screen.
“I’ll kill for her right now.”
“You won’t.” Malik flexed his whole upper body, his eyes on the meat in his hands. “You’d never.”
I put a switchblade in my pocket and left.
R.I.P. Tho
GUEST BOOK
Obituary >> Condolences >> Photo Reel >> Guest Book Featured Memorial:
ELSIE JANE MCLOUGHLIN BLITZ
July 16
Excellent lady and excellent obituary!! Gotta love her spunk for writing it herself! Of course, she always had spunk, that Elsie! Ha! Ha! She was an Original! ;) Rest in Peace, Dear Ms. Blitz, you will always be remembered as one of the world’s greatest juvenile stars, & a devoted activist, & mother. So many ppl are ruined by fame, especially when they get it at a young age, like you did, but all fame did, was give you a sense of hu3mor! You are safe now.
—Terri Collins, Deer Park, MD
July 16
RIP sweet Angel. . . . . . . . JESUS will welcome You into His lovng Arms. . . . . . . . . . . . Pain is finish now. . . . . . . . many PRAYERS for u and ur Family. . . . never Forgotten dear One —Agnes Silvers, naples, FL
July 16
“Ohhhhhh JEEPERS, Pastor Bill!”
ruhet in frieden
—Dietrich M., Heidelberg, Germany July 16
well that “absolutely true story” was 5 minutes of life i’m never getting back but peace out god bless —justin, Henderson, NV
July 16
“It matters not how long you live, but how well you live.” Elsie Blitz lived both long and well. She is a sweetheart of golden age American television and she will be sorely missed. My prayers and condolences go out to her family. God be with them and with all who grieve.
—Dr. Juan Alvarez, Sante Fe, NM
July 16
wew I do not kno what to say that “still life of death” too much for me wew wew ~ but good luck to her i guess + clutch tip re: rock paper scissors!!!!!!!!! /// have a nice afterlife elsie you;re international trea-surrrrrrrrrrrre —wesley sugar, poulsbo, washingtonnnnn July 16
if she can die, everyone could. o i am so sad.
—Dhrubo A., Kolkata, India
July 16
Cheers to Elsie Blitz: Voice of the Pygmy Sloths!
—Mohammed Patel, London, England July 16
sorta creepy that she wrote her own obituary hahahaa but r.i.p. great life lessons —Adam Pejewski, Denver, CO
July 16
PLEASE ALLOW ME TO EXPRESS MY DEEPEST AND MOST PROFOUND SYMPATHIES TO ELSIES FAMILY. I DIDNOT KNOW HER BUT I HAVE LONG ADMIRED HER WORK AS AN ACTRESS AND FOR THE WORK SHE DOES FOR THOSE POOR CRITTERS IN GUATEMALA. IF YOU LOVED ELSIE BLITZ AND YOU MISS HER JUST REMEMBER SHE WILL ALWAYS BE THERE BECAUS LOVENEVER DIES. YOULL SEE HER IN A TULIPS AND A SUNSET AND YOULL HEAR HER VOICE IN THE WIND SHE LIVES IN BEAUTY. HANG IN THERE IN THIS PAINFUL TIME ALL WHO KNEW HER. YOU WILL GET THROUGH THIS!!!
—HATTIE PRESTON, BOISE, IDAHO
July 16
um wth is up with that ‘true story’ ummmm crickets —nicole sassafrass, Nantucket, MA July 16
Lol! Had no idea she Lived such an Excited life!!! ;) i’ve never heard such an old person talk about sex before lol wusnt she like 200 yrs old??? guess she had to keep herself busy after Meet the neighbors wrapped up rofl;) well either way We’ll miss you, SUSIE EVANS i mean ELSIE BLITZ hahahhha <3 and Great work with the sloths!!!!!!! :) the world lost a CLASSIC today ~I<*.::.oO?Oo.::.*>I?
—Gwennie, Nova Scotia, Canada July 16
Love her. Love the obituary. Love the absolutely true story. Love life. Love words. Hate death.
—Ishani K., Mumbai, India
July 16
So “He” is Death. But who is the “Son?” I do not understand. Is there anyone who knows the answer? And what did He take from her pocket. Why? Sorry my English.
—ElsieBlitzFan, Kyoto, Japan
July 16
ugh i used to do rock first & i always won r.i.p. tho
—joey shmoey, montreal, canada July 16
—Bee.D.P., Stockholm, Sweden
July 16
omg wut the heck what a lady what a thing who knew elsie was trippy as frick im gonna start volunteering at a nursing home firreal what a time!!!!!!!!!!!
—Liv F, Pasadena, CA
July 16
i hope she died with out pain. i pick white chrysanthemums for her and put them on fire. always Elsie.
—cheung hyunsoo, Hong Kong, China July 16
Shouldve won a juvenile academy award for that scene where the house burns down. Also poor John Griffin haha.
—Z., South Bend, IN
July 16
grew up watching reruns of “meet the neighbors” with my parents and brother at dinner. best show ever. have such good memories watching it after finishing homework and eating instant mashed potatoes and spill-ing milk and stuff. simple times then. she may be elsie Blitz to some ppl but she’ll always be little susie evans to me. my brother and me still do the handshake susie and peter make up when the truck breaks down after the harvest festival and they steal the sheep without farmer sebas-tian noticing. good wholesome family entertainment they dont make it like they used to do they. now my brother lives in atlanta and i don’t see him much but wenever i do we do the handshake. he’s got kids and a wife and there all photogenic. im still here in arkansas taking care of mom because now she’s got dementia. pretty hard i must admit but she sure does perk up everytime she hears that “meet the neighbors” theme song. i downloaded all the seasons and i watch them with mom just to see her light up like that. i forgot how funny and awkward it is when they switched to color in season 4 and everyone in the show says stuff like “golly its so bright over here!” haha. love the part in that 1st color episode when susie paints the dog blue bc she says everythings “topsy turvy” that still makes me laugh so hard. even tho it probably wasnt a good day for the dog tho. mom doesnt recognize me so well anymore but she sure does recognize those sweet characters. RIP little susie evans my heart goes out to you and your family. america will always love you. thank you.
—Mary Jensen, Jasper, Arkansas July 16
THIS WHOLE #OBITUARY IS A BOLD-FACED LIE. WHOEVER WORKS AT THIS WEBSITE NEEDS SOME FUCKING #FACTCHECKERS. I AM AN #INSIDER. I KNOW FOR A FACT THAT #ELSIEBLITZ DIED AT #CEDARSSINAIMEDICALCENTER ON BEVERLY BLVD, NOWHERE THE FUCK NEAR PANAMA. ON TOP OF THIS ELSIE WAS A #SHITTYMOTHER. IT IS TIME PEOPLE KNOW THE TRUTH ABOUT ELSIE BLITZ. SHE WAS A #LIAR & A #COLDSLUT A #NARCISSIST AND AN #OPIOID ADDICT. SHE’S NOT #AMERICASSWEETHEART AND SHE NEVER WAS. SHE RUINED MY LIFE & MANY OTHER PPLS LIVES & DOES NOT DESERVE ANY SADNESS OR NICE WORDS. DM ME FOR DETAILS. #THETRUTHABOUTELSIE BLITZ #ELSIEBLITZ #OBITUARIES #TRUTH #LIES #FACTS
—Abominable Glow Man, Like I’d Ever Tell You Where The Fuck I Live
Intonation
When Moses Robert Blitz tells people that he writes a mental health blog, their follow-up question is always the same.
“Are you a psychologist,” asks a pregnant woman. She uses absolutely no intonation. They’re standing at a cocktail party in a loft on a warm and polluted evening. It is Tuesday, July sixteenth, and his mother is newly dead. He chose to attend this party because it’s a music crowd, not a Hollywood crowd, and he suspects that no one here will ask about Elsie. The Arts District always troubles Moses—he prefers to avoid evidence of mental illness, drug addiction, and poverty, although he admits that these forces plague every street in Los Angeles. He just doesn’t like to see them! On the way from his car service to the door of the Walnut Building, a man asked Moses for something to eat, and when Moses gave him a twenty-dollar bill, he beamed. “Thank you—bless you,” said the man, accepting the money. “And hold her close, do you hear me? Hold your girl close.” Moses, who was walking alone, frowned. Then he passed a barefoot woman sitting against a building with a tabby by her side. “I’m a god, I’m a god, I’m a god,” she said.
Now he stands in a loft that serves as the host’s studio. Tastefully arranged shadows make the furniture appear more expensive and the people more fertile than they actually are. It has a high, angled ceiling and a skylight through which they can see no stars. Exposed brick. Original windows. It’s a party meant to celebrate the tenant’s album release, but he has refused to play the music, suddenly ashamed of it, and has retreated to the bedroom with two very young women and one cocker spaniel.
The guests are uptight and fragrant, dressed in experimental athleisure and feeling very sexual. Except Moses, who wants to unzip himself from his skin. He feels the fibers, again, pricking and biting like ticks. He has a condition. He doesn’t like to talk about it.
“What?” he asks the pregnant woman, already claustrophobic inside this exchange.
“Are you a psychologist,” she repeats.
“No.”
“Have you ever studied psychology.”
“No.”
“Psychiatry.”
“No.”
“Psychoanalysis.”
“No.”
“Medicine.”
“No.”
“Counseling.”
“No.”
“Sociology.”
“No.”
“Anthropology.”
“No.”
“Critical race theory.”
“No.”
“Queer theory.”
“No.”
“Indigenous studies.”