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 »

Pandora

[This post wound up being very long-winded and self-absorbed, but that's what blogs are for, I guess.] For years, I've gotten increasingly picky about how I listen to music. Sometimes I just want to listen to everything I have on shuffle, but sometimes I want to get more specific like only music from one genre on shuffle or all songs by one artist in chronological order, and sometimes I want to get really specific, like songs about dreams or artists from Michigan or recordings featuring violins. Go »

Nooooooooooodge

You know what would be nice? If Google, one of the most web-savvy companies in existence, could manage to remember my goddamn user settings for more than 48 hours. I'm getting really sick of discovering them reset to defaults and having to change them all over again. Go »

New Baby Upstairs

WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH... Go »

Neighborhood Botch

I've heard that riding in the front seat of an Uber signals that you want to chat with the driver, and riding in the back seat means that you prefer silence. I always sit in the back. But when I went to catch a ride from my house the other night, there was stuff in the van's back seat, so the front was the only option. Go »

R.I.P. Russ

Twelve years after losing her mother, Kelly has now lost her father too. This loss was a quieter and tidier affair, partially due to Russ not wanting a funeral or wake, and partially due to his very strained relationship with Kelly in recent years. We waited a few days to work out the trip schedule, flew up there, had a nice little graveside gathering with immediate family and then lunch out, spent time seeing the old hometown and Russ's new adopted small town (oh how I don't miss driving for hours through corn fields to get literally anywhere in Illinois), and returned with lots of tasks for Kelly to do to resolve the estate. Go »

When Anxieties Attack

It feels weird to write about a fairly minor health incident in my life after someone else on this site just went through a major crisis. But people have been asking since Kelly's cryptic Facebook comment on Tuesday morning and I guess I should explain. I had been working every night last week on a project for work and getting a couple of hours of sleep each night, which turned into an all-weekend thing, and the avalanche of tasks didn't stop when the site launched early Monday morning. Go »