They're executing you at dawn. The warden enters your cell and asks what you want for your last meal. Steak? Lobster? Oysters? At least you don't have to worry it being bad for you. Hell, have a burger, cooked in lard with bacon and cheese between two grilled-cheese sandwiches, and a deep-fried Twinkie for dessert. It's not like it's going to kill you.
Slate has a fascinating article on last meals of the condemned prompted by last week's execution of D.C. sniper John Mohammad. Turns out he didn't want the world to know what he scarfed down before being strapped to the gurney.
But others didn't mind or the state in their day didn't give them the option of keeping it secret. John Wayne Gacey, fabled killer clown of Chicago, was a former prison cook who asked for shrimp, fried chicken, French fries, and a pound of strawberries. My personal favorite is brain-damaged Arkansas killer Ricky Ray Rector who shoveled down steak, fried chicken and cherry Kool Aide, but decided to save the pecon pie for "later." I give him an "A" for irony.
What Jeffrey Dahmer would have ordered? I think we can guess.
Believe it or not, there was even a website devoted to last meals, deadmaneating.com. It sold merchandise, including a deadmaneating thong for the ladies. I'm not even going to think about going there.
For the record, my last meal would be lobster.
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