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 »

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 »

Heart Burn

The recurring pericarditis that I mentioned elsewhere is now believed by my primary-care doctor to be heartburn or possibly an ulcer. The latter explanation is possible I suppose, but I'm skeptical about the former since it feels less like an acidic burning than like a sharp localized lower-chest pain such as a knife wound or bullet wound. Either way, it still keeps occurring every few weeks, it still hurts like a son of a bitch and keeps me awake all night, and I'm way beyond sick of it happening. Go »

Home is Where the ––– is

Just how convenient can future additions to Google get? (link) Thanks, Marlon. 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 »

Can't Live With Her, Can't Live Without Her

This is the truncated version of a much longer and more ambitious post about my relationships and why I don't blog about them. Let's just leave the reason at "duh." Denise and I tried being friends again after breaking up, but it was based on each of us not saying what we really thought of the other, which is always unwise. Go »

Even When I Was a Child, I Was Hated by Skeletons

We watched The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra again last night. If you haven't seen it, and you have a place in your heart for a pretty good spoof of campy D-grade sci-fi movies from the 1950s, rent it. A few people have been turned off by its slow pace, but I have yet to watch it with someone who hasn't at least found a few things to chuckle at. Go »