R.I.P. Bob
by Scott Hardie on June 22, 2019

My friend and former co-worker Bob, who provided us with jerky at GooCon: Siesta Key, recently passed away of a sudden illness. He was a quirky dude, occasionally given to hostile pranks, but usually a delightful and friendly presence whenever he saw you. I don't know how much his service in Vietnam warped him, but he definitely wasn't like anyone else I knew, prone to making weird jokes and unexplained connections between ideas. And it's really none of my business, but it seems to me like if you're going to suffer a terminal illness, getting the diagnosis mere hours before dying sure saves you a lot of prolonged grief. I hope he's having a blast in the afterlife somewhere, blaring rock music and welding some giant metal sculptures. He left behind some sad people here.

One Reply to R.I.P. Bob

Scott Hardie | June 23, 2019
Correction: I had heard that he passed about 24 hours after learning the diagnosis. But I just learned that it was actually two weeks.

Logical Operator

The creator of Funeratic, Scott Hardie, blogs about running this site, losing weight, and other passions including his wife Kelly, his friends, movies, gaming, and Florida. Read more »

Normal Paranormal

This will offend believers in the paranormal, so read at your own peril. Socially, I've tried to keep it a polite secret that I don't believe in any paranormal phenomena, including the everyday sort. Several of my local friends practice feng shui, buy healing magnets, size people up based on their birth signs, and go to dieticians who tell them not to eat foods of certain colors. Go »

Goodbye Dooce

Dooce.com has given me a lot of laughs over the years, and it's one of the few weblogs I have made a point to visit every day. But lately I just can't get past how much Heather bashes her husband, and with increasing viciousness. Go »

The Tiger

This is the second of four weekly blog posts about diagnoses that have completely changed my life since the pandemic started, after The Dragon. Last week, I wrote about my liver disease, which doesn't have any direct, detectable signs. It's not as if I feel any pain in my liver, or that I can sense that it's not working in the same way that I could tell right away if, say, my eyes stopped working or my lungs stopped working. Go »

Documenting My Discomfiture

My company hired a new guy to do documentation a few weeks ago, Rajeev. I've seen him walking around talking to the software developers, and attending meetings with managers in glass-walled rooms. I've heard several managers praising Rajeev by name and telling me that we need to get Rajeev to review prior documentation before we begin on projects. Go »

The Phoenix

This is the last of four weekly blog posts about diagnoses that have completely changed my life since the pandemic started, after The Dragon, The Tiger, and The Serpent. I saved the lightest one for last. Many people who discover later in life that they're neurodivergent have reported spending years aware of the symptoms and signs of their condition without ever considering that the description might apply to them, and when they do finally realize, it's as if a thousand mysteries are solved at once: Things that never made sense are all suddenly explained. Go »

A Pet Peeve That's Actually About My Pet

How come I can't get through the grocery checkout lane without the clerk or the bagger commenting about how many cans of cat food I buy, which inevitably leads to questions about how many cats I own, how much I feed them, and why I need so many cans? Has nobody in this state heard of stocking up? For their information, I have one cat who eats two 3-oz cans of food a day, which is more than a typical cat but not unheard-of. Go »