So, yes. I had Oliver Stone on the mind. I sent a tweet into the infinite wondering why, for the love of God, hasn't he been cast in some sort of Hulk spoof?

Heidi Mayne replied that she heard he had recently retired. Hell fuckin' no, I thought. So I googled it, and the truth was actually far more disturbing.

Oliver Stone was murdered three weeks ago.

From what I can gather, Oliver's been quietly making his way out of the adult entertainment industry in order to focus on his new love, vintage rock and roll T-Shirts. He even recently opened up a store in Pasadena called Oliver's Tees, where a groovetown aficionado could find a plethora of awesome designs covering the full gamut of the rock and roll spectrum from Allman to Zydeco (comma Buckwheat) and everywhere in between. I chanced to visit there last year and it was a hell of a shop. Got myself a bitch-ass awesome Harry Nilsson shirt, too.

Anyway, according to news reports, a gang of local toughs broke into the store right before closing time a few weeks back. Oliver had just taken in the proceeds of a mega-sale-event (during which he got a cool $800 for a Joe Perry Project T-shirt reportedly owned and worn by Steve Perry) and was getting ready to head off to the bank with about ten thousand bones sitting in the deposit bag when the young criminals busted in, ski-masks over their faces and guns in their hands. Most men, even the most stubborn of shopkeepers, would have realized they were outnumbered and outgunned and just put their hands up, hoping for the best. But these young thieves weren't counting on Oliver Stone being behind the register.

According to the few details I've been able to piece together from police reports, Oliver had torn off the arms of three of the punks within a matter of seconds, eating three of them in the process.

"It was unreal, man. I didn't even see the guy move, and then all of a sudden he's spitting my elbow-bone onto me," Corey Madrigale, one of the two surviving thieves, told police, after the incident.

Before the group could process what they had gotten themselves into, Stone proceeded to punch straight through the fourth man's jaw, securing a hold of his spine in the process, which was soon yanked out through what used to be the punk's mouth. As the thief fell to the floor, his spine was wielded much in the same way someone like, say, Ghost Rider would swing a chain. It slashed it's way into the ankles and shins of the fifth and sixth intruder's legs, breaking one of them and tearing a vital artery on the other. As they landed upon the floor screaming in pain, Oliver thrusted his Zeus-like frame into the air a full ten feet, only to descend, leviathan-like, upon their skulls, crushing them both to dust in the process.

Oliver picked up the bank deposit bag and headed for the door. "You don't pull that kind of guff at Oliver's Tees, " he said as he walked out.

Unfortunately, no one told Oliver that this group of ruffians had a seventh man, waiting outside in their Hummer with the engine running. Having watched all this from the street, he was quaking in fear and most likely pissing himself. When he saw the blood-soaked and bone-encrusted god among men leaving the store, he fired his semi-automatic pistol into Oliver's forehead, striking him down and rendering the legendary star dead.

The shooter then shot himself through the temple, most likely fearing the unimaginable vengeance that would be served upon his ruin, had his bullet not been enough to stop a man like Oliver Stone.

But it was.