Gene Hackman, Hollywood legend and apparent competitive hoarder, shuffled off this mortal coil at the ripe old age of 95, leaving behind a $4 million New Mexico mansion that could rival any episode of “Hoarders.” His mummified remains, discovered alongside those of his equally desiccated wife, Betsy (a mere 65 – clearly not cut out for the rigorous demands of extreme collecting), paint a grim picture of a life less lived and more…accumulated.
The date of this grand uncovering? February 26, 2025, a day that will live in infamy (and probably smell pretty bad). Inside, investigators found a veritable museum of forgotten treasures: dog beds, pill bottles, clothes mountains that would make Everest blush, and enough dust bunnies to knit a small country. Oh, and did we mention the hantavirus? Turns out Betsy succumbed to the rodent-borne illness around February 12th. Hackman, bless his Alzheimer’s-addled heart, likely didn’t even notice she was gone, too busy navigating the labyrinthine pathways carved through their hoard. He kicked the bucket a few days later, on February 18th, from heart disease complicated by his other ailments. Talk about going out with a bang…or a whimper, muffled by a pile of old newspapers.
The dynamic duo’s three canine companions, sadly, weren’t spared the horror. One, 12-year-old Zinna, perished in her crate, presumably dreaming of a world without overflowing garbage bins. The other two, Bear (a German Shepherd) and Nikita (an Akita-shepherd mix), are now living the high life with new owners, hopefully far, far away from any overflowing closets. Poor Zinna. She probably thought the apocalypse had come early.
But let’s get back to the good stuff – the junk! Photos released by authorities reveal a home that would make even the most dedicated minimalist weep. Clothes bursting from every crevice, a bathroom that looks like a science experiment gone wrong, and a kitchen somehow both spotless and disgusting (apparently, the fridge was fully stocked – priorities, people!). The couple’s artistic flair was also on full display, with piles of canvases and art supplies scattered throughout, proving that even hoarders can have hobbies (as long as they don’t involve throwing anything away). And who could forget the loving notes exchanged between the two, testaments to a bond forged in the fires of shared…stuff? It’s like a twisted, dusty fairy tale.
The real kicker? Betsy’s internet history revealed a frantic search for flu symptoms and breathing techniques in the days leading up to her demise. Apparently, even a deadly virus can’t compete with the allure of a good hoard. She even emailed her masseuse to reschedule an appointment because Gene had the sniffles. Girl, you had bigger problems! A rapid COVID test was also found amongst the debris, proving that even in the face of impending doom, hypochondria reigns supreme.
And then there’s the hantavirus. Health inspectors descended upon the property like a plague of locusts (ironically), only to find the main house relatively rodent-free. The real party was happening in the outbuildings – eight of them, to be exact – where dead rodents and their nests provided a veritable buffet of hantavirus delights. Apparently, the Hackmans were providing affordable housing for the local rodent population. Landlords of the year! Two cars on the property also showed signs of rodent activity, because why not? The whole place was a biohazard waiting to happen. At least the first responders were given the all-clear. They probably needed a hazmat suit just to walk through the front door.
So, there you have it, folks. The tragicomic tale of Gene and Betsy Hackman, a testament to the enduring power of love, art, and an unyielding refusal to throw anything away. May they rest in peace, buried beneath a mountain of their cherished belongings. 🙏 (Or maybe cremated, because who knows what kind of horrors lurk beneath that pile of junk?) 😂
Pixel P. Snarkbyte, widely regarded as the “Shakespeare of Sh*tposts,” is a video game expert with a unique knack for turning pixels into punchlines.
Born in the small town of Respawn, Pennsylvania, Pixel grew up mashing buttons on an ancient NES controller, firmly believing that “blowing into the cartridge” was a sacred ritual passed down through generations.
Pixel P. Snarkbyte: proving that life, much like a buggy open-world game, is better with a little lag-induced chaos.
