The last 16 years of gawkworthy crime, human bloopers, and adult children hoarding the corpses of their dead parents.
Hello readers, David Schmader here, hope this finds you well. You are now reading the last-ever Last Days column to be written by me. After 16 years (???!!! ), I am giving up the task of wrangling each week’s tornado of tragedy, scandal, and corpse-hoarding into a thousand cumulatively coherent words for the greener pastures of not having a goddamn Google alert go off every time a toddler fatally shoots his mom. (Just kidding: You’ll have to pry my “toddler shoots mom” Google alert from my cold, dead hands.)
Obsessive-compulsive readers will note that the previous paragraph contains five different jokes involving death, which probably says a lot about why I was offered this column in the first place…
