With his Oakley headgear, Affliction tees and a hot young wife that seems to cater to his every sexual whim, Jeff Lowe—who you undoubtedly remember from the wholly Oklahoma mythology of Tiger King lore—is one of the “coolest” dudes around, at least by Sooner standards. So who would want to poison him?
I mean, besides Joe Exotic, of course.
Recently, after drinking and gambling enjoying a nice dinner at Winstar World Casino in Thackerville, sometime around 3 a.m. Lowe keeled over, suffering from an apparent stroke. As a stroke victim myself, I can honestly say that, yes, you do fall over and drift into an unconscious state while your body begins to rebel against itself in an epic battle between life and death.
But, as a modern-day Oklahoma He-Man—something, I’m sadly not now nor ever will be— after spending three days in the hospital, Lowe is currently telling the press that a “strange man” must’ve poisoned his drink. From Consequence of Sound:
He’s currently recovering at his home after spending three days in the hospital, but Lauren says that he’s struggling with speech and coordination. The couple are still trying to piece together the events of the night, but their current suspicion is that the strange man at the restaurant spiked Jeff’s drink when they weren’t looking. Lauren told TMZ that Jeff’s urine tests came back negative for “commonly abused drugs”, so she believes that he might have used something “more exotic”.
By saying “more exotic,” do you think that she’s trying to slyly infer that Joe’s elite cabal of farmed-out guttersnipes tried to take out the similarly trashy Lowe? Only time will tell and, hopefully, a new miniseries on Netflix.
That being half-sputtered, I can personally tell you that after a stroke, as you slowly begin to wake up from your restful coma, you do begin to believe things you normally wouldn’t. For example, when I originally woke up, for at least a week I thought that I had died and I was in a waiting room in purgatory, waiting to be judged by God himself.
Guess I should have blamed the whole thing on a covert poisoning from my perceived enemies, which, in my case, could really be anybody.
Either way, even though Lowe is having some troubles with his basic motor skills—oh, don’t I know that!—I’d like to believe that many of us here would happily send him well-wishes and honest hopes for a speedy recovery, with the fully-erect desire that he’ll be back to his gratuitous threesomes in no time!
Meanwhile, I may have to go back in for surgery soon.
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