Also, tribute sucked. Especially stock footage of some yogi and some mushrooms run through a video toaster.
It was nice to see the rambling from peers, but fuck. That's always the stuff of nightmares.
I'm sure everyone thinks about it when confronted with such a thing. I'd hate to see the testimony of my friends, lovers, enemies and co-workers once I'm cremated or bronzed or had my head whacked off and stuck in a tank of liquid helium.
"Sharkey was, you know, this guy. He wasn't afraid of offending people, but I think that maybe it was just because he was just mostly retarded. You know, he got through things okay, but I'm guessing he was more like Rain Man who wasn't any good at math. He just figured out how to piece together a passable impression of a human being. You know, like a three piece suit made out of newspapers that he painted blue. Silly autistic bastard."
"He was a good boy. He just swore all the fucking time. I mean, I know he knew English. That shit was just fucking retarded."
"I never got to, you know, really know him very well. But he, like, he could fuck like a demon.
Do I have to say that part? ... yes, I know, it was in the will, but shit. I don't want his car that fucking bad. Guy had, like, a three inch dick."
"Sharkey was... my friend.
Er, except not really. I played Bubble Bobble once with him online, except he quit in the middle. Said it felt gay."
