HARRISBURG, Pa. — Local man Albert Olmsted passed away at the age of 27 despite not even being remotely cool, familiar sources confirmed.
“Let’s face it, 27 is such an iconic age to die at, but to be honest, Albert was not iconic at all,” said Olmsted’s Walmart coworker Janelle Lewiston, who expressed her condolences but refused to sugarcoat her memories. “He didn’t even let us call him Al. He insisted on being addressed as Albert, assistant regional manager, and once threatened to file an HR report when I called him Big A. He also wore Skechers to work every single day and wasn’t even addicted to heroin.”
Harrisburg Coroner George Yang said that even Olmsted’s cause of death was lame.
“Death is death, don’t get me wrong. It’s not something to joke about. But some ways of going out are undeniably cooler than others, and that’s just the truth,” admitted Yang, flipping through Olmsted’s chart. “This guy slipped on a Biscoff cookie wrapper, hit his head on a shelf holding his Funko Pop collection, and died of a slow brain bleed in his sleep eight hours later. It’s tragic, but let’s just say it’s not something you’d ever see in a Tarantino movie or a VH1 ‘Behind the Music’ episode.”
Music historian Dorin Waters, who teaches about the sociology of the so-called “27 Club” at Berklee College of Music, weighed in on Olmsted’s passing after seeing his obituary in the paper.
“In actuality, many of the most influential artists die long before they reach 27,” said Waters. “Look at Aaliyah, Selena, Juice WRLD, I could go on. My point is, this Albert fellow would have needed to die like six years ago for his age to be a relevant factor in his coolness legacy, or lack thereof. Also, his huge glasses are crooked in his obituary photo. Was this really the best one his family had of him?”
At press time, Olmsted’s coolness was affirmed after all when his mom found a bong, collection of rare vinyl, and notes from dozens of doting lovers under his bed.
