TAN: ITT, you post and I then offer a concise, pithy eulogy about you.

[Julian, White Poet WARLORD]

Exactly what it says on the tin. Go.

[sweetcell]

OK, I'll play... hi Jules!

[shemptiness]

5919

[walk,on,by]

Gwar

Tin

You're fat

Food, I'm not really eating

Phony numbers

My beef with thatguy, still

[Julian, White Poet WARLORD]

OK, I'll play... hi Jules!

Sweetcell was a lot of things. A husband, a father, a techno enthusiast. A hockey watcher. But when I think of what Sweetcell was at his essence, he was a Canadian. A Canadian who gave me absolutely no recommendations of what to do in Montreal but a loyal son of Canada all the same. And that is what we lost when that train derailed: a lot of people, one of which was a Canadian.

[Julian, White Poet WARLORD]

5919

Nuke LaLush was a quiet man. Unassuming, if you will. He wasn't flashy. He wasn't easy to know. He didn't try to be the biggest personality in the room; that wasn't him. He used to be Shemp. I think it says something that he saw himself as one of the replacement Stooges. He was just happy to be a part of something bigger, he didn't need to be the biggest thing himself. More recently he changed his name to Nuke LaLush. I never knew if he knew the character in Bull Durham actually spelled the name LaLoosh and he making a pun. I never knew, and now I never will. He was hard to truly know sometimes. But he was, undoubtedly, a man who stayed in his lane. Except for that time his car literally crossed the double yellow and ran into that semi, obviously. But metaphorically, he stayed in his lane. And I'll always respect that.

[Julian, White Poet WARLORD]

Gwar

Tin

You're fat

Food, I'm not really eating

Phony numbers

My beef with thatguy, still

Walkonby was a character, I tell you what. He came in like a hurricane: the whirlwind heat of mild hallucinogenic drug use and flash of cat memes. But there was a calm eye to that storm if you really looked. He was a quiet man, a realtor, who liked red wine and bowties. People couldn't always see that. I think maybe the commas obscured their vision, but it was there. Deep down in that 6'3" bearded man was a soul and an old spirit.

He was the kind of homosexual your mother would call you up to brag that they found "delightful" and say "I didn't even mind I was talking to a gay". He was sort of like David Sedaris, if David Sedaris trafficked in GIFs instead of cloying Garrison Keiller knockoffs. Yes, old Walkie was unique. We don't know why he was in Vietnam or the exact details of how he died. Maybe we just have to accept the official report that says "drug-addled auto-erotic asphyxiation." I don't know, I really don't. But I do know what we lost. We lost a character.

[hutch]

wow.. these are really good...I think this topic is already HOF material

[Julian, White Poet WARLORD]

wow.. these are really good...I think this topic is already HOF material

There isn't a lot we know about Hutch but boy, oh boy, did old Hutch have a lot of records, I tell you what. I think we all knew that. There were other things we knew about Hutch, ancillary things: the square footage of his house, his kids names, his wife's name, what year he graduated from UofR, lots of things. But this isn't the time to bring any of that up. No sir, not right now.

Pardon my digression but there's a movie that always makes me think of old Hutch. It's called Drop Dead Gorgeous. Maybe you've seen it; its about these girls who are trying to win a beauty contest. Anyway, Denise Richard's dad owns a furniture store and he yells across the store at this couple: "Tom, Judy: look here. You don't Jew me down too much on that dinette, and I'll throw in a hutch for free! That's my motto: you don't pay less, I give you more!" And then he turns to the crew who are making a documentary about the pageant -- did I mention the film is a mockumentary? No? Oh well, anyways -- and he says "the trick is, the price of the hutch is built into dinette!" And that's Old Hutch. The price of Old Hutch was built into the dinette.

Gotta address the elephant in the room: it was a hell of a way to go, in an explosive mishap while riding his wheat thresher. I guess when the Lord calls you home, he calls you home. I guess the Lord needed a place to keep all his little angel ferrets and other assorted domesticated angelic creatures. I don't question his ways, I tell you what, they're a mystery.

[shemptiness]

5919

Nuke LaLush

Very nice.  And yes, the pun is intentional.

[Relaxer]

I'm ready.

[Julian, White Poet WARLORD]

I'm ready.

Relaxer was a lot of things. Most of those things were muscles. Few of those things were hair. He died as he lived: working out. If there's one thing this horrible, horrible tragedy has taught us all its the need for a spotter to ensure the bar doesn't slip and crush our windpipes and cause our bodies to choke to death on our own blood that is running down our esophagi and filling up our lungs. Its a lesson we'll not soon forget. Relaxer taught us that.

I remember one time, Relaxer sent me a private message. He told me I was very funny and suggested I post on Hipinion. I never knew for sure -- heck I still don't -- if he meant it genuinely or it was all a clever ruse to make me post somewhere else and go away. Relaxer was hard to know that way, sometimes.

Relaxer was married for a long time, and then he wasn't. He parlayed that divorce into a Porky's-esque multi-women sex romp. And he told us all about it. I like to think he did all that mostly for our amusement. That seems like the kind of guy Relaxer was. And I think we'll all miss him dearly.

[hutch]

oh that's good. (the relaxer one obv)

[Julian, White Poet WARLORD]

oh that's good. (the relaxer one obv)

I dunno, I thought yours was the best. Obscure movie references, a general confusion over which definition of "hutch" you were intending. I thought "The price of Old Hutch was built into the dinette" is the best thing in the entire thread.

[hutch]

we may need one for walkie post haste...