Network TV is on the verge of obsolescence. Too many commercials. Shit programming. My new apartment came with a TV. I exiled it to the closet, although PBS sometimes has shows of interest like tonight's documentary of the 60s' smoothest voice, Sam Cooke. I knew that Sam Cooke had died young in 1964.
At the age of 31.
What I didn't know was that the soul singer had been shot dead at the Hacienda Motel in Los Angeles. The LAPD ruled by shooting by the hotel manageress as justifiable homicide since the Mississippi native had reportedly attacked the woman in a near-naked state, however Etta James had reputed the finding after seeing the corpse. The Chess Records singer declared that the body showed the signs of a devastating beating.
The gun wounds sounded more like a coup de grace.
No one argued with the LAPD in those days.
Not whites, blacks, or latinos.
So tonight watch PBS at 9pm to catch what Same Cooke had to offer the future.
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