Correspondence with sister-in-law, regarding the late George Michael

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Dear M 

I like to think that the attached image is what flashed before George Michael's eyes as he died, in part, as a result of dilated cardiomyopathy, during the early hours of last, last, last, last, last Christmas Day, 2016: A beautiful mandala comprising multiple Wham bars.

It would have probably been quite a bittersweet moment for the writer of 'Faith' and 'Too Funky'. On the one hand, he was dying prematurely, at age of 53. On the other hand, the universe was acknowledging the extent of his contribution to popular culture by referencing the band that he formed, during his late teens, with Andrew Ridgeley, prior to launching a successful career as a solo artist.

You will have correctly identified what, to a layman, appear to be scattered Hundreds & Thousands, as Boltzmann objects of the kind that spontaneously come into existence as a result of thermodynamic anomalies in the universe; in this instance the fluctuations in reality that occur whenever a prime number of Wham bars converge around a central nexus point.

I imagine that, as Michael received this vision, he would have heard Wham!'s farewell single 'The Edge of Heaven' (backed with an updated version of 'Wham Rap! (Enjoy What You Do)' succinctly retitled 'Wham Rap '86') playing ethereally in the background, as though he was hearing it through a succession of walls. Some people say that it is more likely that he would have heard 'Freedom', arguably Wham!'s biggest hit, but that makes no fucking sense. The chorus of 'The Edge of Heaven' (“Take me to the edge of Heaven, tell me that my soul's forgiven') clearly describes the journey undertaken by Michael's soul to what is literally the edge of heaven, while also exploring, in rhyming couplet form, his hopes that he will be allowed to enter, possibly as a result of name-checking Jesus in the title of one of his later songs (Jesus to a Child).

Some other people (different people to those who I have described above) are offended by the suggestion that the last image to grace the mind of the solo creator of 'Listen Without Prejudice Volume 1' was a convergence of Wham bars. I tell these people: “You can't handle the truth!”, but I say it the same way that the actor, Jack Nicholson, said it to the actor, Tom Cruise, in Rob Reiner's Oscar-nominated 1992 film - 'A Few Good Men.' I bark it at them, while maintaining a stiff military decorum where only my mouth moves.

Some of these people probably want to cancel me, but as you know, when it comes to my critics, I give absolutely no fucks. In fact, I give so few fucks on this issue that I literally begin absorbing fucks from the surrounding atmosphere, like an air plant, only one that sustains itself from drawing fucks from the air instead of water vapour.

Thank you also for the chameleon-themed socks.


Yours Sincerely

Sam Redlark


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