Bob was a genuine nature-lover. I mean that literally. He loved nature. Once when we were out hiking by a pond I watched him catch a frog and force it to fellate him. I asked him what the hell he was doing, and he told me that God wanted him to have dominion over nature so that's what he was doing. Then he yelled at the frog, "What's my name? Say my name, bitch!" That was Bob. Always going that extra mile.
A middle-aged man dreaming of the day when he can stop begging for scraps and write for a living.
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
Do not allow me to give a eulogy at your funeral
Seriously. Don't do it. The following is an example of something that I felt compelled to write when someone asked for help writing a eulogy for his friend.