Jimmy Hendrix, Devon Wilson Devon Flung, Michael Jeffries discussed on 27 Club
The theory about Michael Jeffries better dead than alive ghoulish take down on Jimmy Hendrix and the theory about incompetent racists. Paramedics are arguably far fetched. They see more like attempts to explain the sudden death of a unique musical talent. That Jimmy's death couldn't have been so blase so pedestrians so cliche that some sinister force must have taken down something fantastical. He was just too unique too special to a Morteau to die. So predictably the truth may have been less pulpy than the twin theories posited by Tabby Monica but the truth was tragic than the less the truth about Jimi Hendrix death goes like this Jimi Hendrix took nine of Monica Danamon vesper pels. That's nearly twenty times. The recommended dosage. It was enough to take down a Goddamn Rhino. The autopsy concluded that he died from inhalation of vomit Duta bitchy intoxication and fettah means plus wine plus second all and then a shit ton of aspects. He chugged the booze. He chugged the pills. He fell asleep on his back and he didn't wake up when his body rejected the lethal cocktail intentional. Probably not a dumb move made by a guy who is running on fumes and just one of the world is stop for a moment so his body and mind could catch up. That's most likely what happened. But we'll never really know Jimi Hendrix was buried at Greenwood cemetery in Renton Washington a Seattle suburb. It was the first day of October. Nineteen seventy it was cheaper to bury Jimmy in Renton in Seattle tune. The Nadi Mess. That was his estate and the paltry salary that his father. Our earned his landscaper. It just made fiscal sense. Bury their plus. His mother Lucille was buried there to the funeral. Took place at the DUNLAP BAPTIST. Church only one reporter in one photographer. Button door hundreds of fans lined the streets outside. Jimmy's family was attendances. Were Michael Jeffrey. No reading Mitch Mitchum Buddy Miles Johnny. Winter Alan Douglas. Miles Davis in Devon Wilson Devon Flung herself at the open grave a short time later in February of Nineteen seventy-one. She took another dive. This time it was from a ninth storey window. The Chelsea Hotel.