First, to Ken Riemersma, who drank himself to death on light beer, his only form of sustinance for over 25 years.
His last words to me, poking my fat belly, "You're not missing any meals, are you?"
An all-Budlight diet kept him thin and he regularly dissed anybody over his own skinney frame, which he sustained with a case a day, cigarettes, and no edible food whatsoever.
Best story: We were at a industry golf outing some 30 years ago, and his biggest customer was lining up an 18" putt, so Kenny jumps out of the cart, runs up to the green, pulls a $50 bill out of his wallet, throws it on the green, and starts to rant:
"Bernie, you fat fuck, you can't make that" and after stream of disparaging remarks later proved the point as the putt was missed, he pulled me aside and said he'd just made 10 grand from the gesture. A great awakening.
Then, my adopted first cousin Noel, head bashed in in Denver, probably a drug deal. Rest in peace, little guy, should have listened to those who loved you.
R.I.P.'S
Moderators: Artful Drunktective, mistah willies, NYDingbat, Judge, oettinger, Oggar, Badfellow, Mr Boozificator
- Smatter Noguts
- Boozing Like Bukowski
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Re: R.I.P.'S
I won't toast the drinkers in my life that met their end before their time. They came, they drank, the conquered only as much territory as their barstool.
I'll drink to their memory, only so far as to point out that this Drunkard still stands.
It is a marathon, not a sprint... so the Judge once told me.
I'll drink to their memory, only so far as to point out that this Drunkard still stands.
It is a marathon, not a sprint... so the Judge once told me.
- greygoose
- Juicing Like Jackie
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Re: R.I.P.'S
Hayzoos Christo. Depressing shit, that. I just got up from passing out so I'll pour a round for the fallen. I'm a public service kind of guy.
why is my moral compass always pointed east? that's the direction of the nearest liquor store.