Shelley Winters died last year at the age of 85 from heart failure. Or, so they say.
Twenty years ago, my kid sister used to act like a kid sister and embarrass me in front of my friends ie: nose pickin', passin' gas, you name it. The farting part was rough, especially sharing the back seat on car trips or the spare bed at Grama's house, and the twirp just wouldn't cut the shit no matter how many times I said, "Cut the shit!"So, I had to try another approach.
In my most serious tone, I told her, "Listen. People die from too much farting."
"No they don't shut up."
"Yes, yes, they do."
"Nuh-uh. People don't die from farting."
"Yes, they do, Erin. It's very serious."
"Liar. Who died from farting?You're lying."
"No, I'm not."
Then I picked a name out of thin air. A name that had to be obscure, but a real person, a celebrity, but one that I was sure a 6 year old would not know:
"Shelley Winters." She bought it.
Poor Shelley. We will always associate her unfairly with chronic and fatal flatulence.