Kinky Friedman, known for his satirical and often provocative style, has passed away at 79. A post on his social media announced, “Kinky Friedman stepped on a rainbow at his beloved Echo Hill surrounded by family & friends. Kinkster endured tremendous pain & unthinkable loss in recent years but he never lost his fighting spirit and quick wit. Kinky will live on as his books are read and his songs are sung.”
Richard Samet “Kinky” Friedman earned a cult following for his unique take on country and Western music. He released numerous albums, starting with “Sold American” in 1973, a record that laid the foundation for his career. Known as the “governor of the heart of Texas,” he even toured with Bob Dylan during the “Rolling Thunder Revue” and made history as the “first full-blooded Jew” to perform at the Grand Ole Opry.
Apart from his musical endeavors, Friedman was a prolific writer. He wrote detective novels and contributed as a columnist for Texas Monthly. He also ventured into politics, running for Governor of Texas in 2006 with the campaign slogan “My Governor is a Jewish Cowboy,” securing 12.6 percent of the votes among six candidates.
Born in Chicago and raised in Texas, Friedman studied psychology at the University of Texas at Austin. His passion for music led him to form King Arthur & the Carrots and later Kinky Friedman and the Texas Jewboys. He described the latter as a “country band with a social conscience, a demented love child of Lenny Bruce and Bob Wills.”
Reflecting on his life, Friedman once wrote, “Somewhere in heaven, I’m sure there’s a quiet corner with a big easy chair, a bright floor lamp, a big stack of biographical books, and a few old dogs wagging their tails to the faint smell of cigar smoke.”
My Cheating Husband Told Me I am Hideous And Ugly. I Gave him a Taste of His Own Medicine
I still remember the day vividly. His words cut deeper than any blade ever could. “You should be grateful I stay with you because nobody else could stand looking at that hideous face every day.” His cruel comment replayed in my mind like a broken record. At 67, I knew I wasn’t as young as I once was, but I had always believed in my inner and outer beauty. When I dressed up and put effort into my appearance, I still caught a look or two from strangers. His betrayal and harsh words completely shattered my self-esteem.
I was devastated. This was the man I had loved, the father of our four children, the person I had devoted my life to. How could he be so cruel? For days, I was in a daze, hurt and saddened by his words and actions. But then, a realization hit me. This man didn’t love me anymore. He thought that because we were old, he could do whatever he wanted without consequences.
“Okay, Mister Martin,” I thought to myself. “Let’s play it your way. I will make you regret this.”
The Perfect Facade
For the next three days, I played the role of the perfect wife. I served him his meals on time, cleaned the house meticulously, and even showed him extra respect. The satisfaction on his petty little face was almost unbearable. He thought he had won, that he had put me in my place. Little did he know, I was just setting the stage for what was to come.
Behind the scenes, I was planning my revenge. I spent hours researching and thinking of ways to hit him where it hurt the most. The first step was to gather evidence of his infidelity. With the help of a private investigator, I collected photographs, messages, and even videos of his escapades.
The Day of Reckoning
The very next day after my perfect facade, I executed my plan. It started like any other day. I made him breakfast, kissed him goodbye as he left for work, and waited patiently. When he came home, he was greeted by our children, all four of them. They had no idea what was about to happen, but I needed them there for what was to come next.
I gathered everyone in the living room and handed out envelopes containing the evidence of his infidelity. As they opened them, the room filled with gasps and shocked expressions. Martin’s face turned from confusion to horror as he realized what was happening.
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“Martin, you thought you could humiliate me and get away with it?” I said, my voice steady and strong. “You thought I would just sit back and let you walk all over me? You’re wrong. I’ve had enough.”
I looked at our children, their eyes wide with disbelief. “This man,” I continued, “has betrayed not only me but our entire family. He doesn’t deserve our love or respect.”
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