Thursday, November 12, 2009

November 12, 2009
Haven't been sleeping well. Woke up at 2:30 last night pondering conflicts. Having survived twin heart attacks a year-and-a-half ago, I keep saying to myself, "This can't be healthy." As I laid there listening to the quiet breathing of my wife and Peaches, my mind kept sinking to the morbid thought of an obituary that reads in part, "He had a warning, a second chance, but he couldn't change his lifestyle."

I really don't want to read that in my obit.

Speaking of which, when I began my 2,600 step walk with Peaches this morning I started thinking about writing my own obit. Really, most obits are so cloyingly awful, you rarely get a sense of who the person was really. From there I gravitated to, well, which part of me would write the obit? The part of me that digs who I am, or the critic who, sits on my other shoulder, and negates me at every turn. As I came back up the driveway, I realized I should probably have the two voices in my head write their version of my life, and death:

A Fitting Sendoff for A Small Town Big Showoff
Born at an early age, Bob Boze Bell was a poor student, an average athlete and a so-so artist. He was fired from many jobs including the Tel Engineering, New Times, KSLX radio and Young Buck Radio. While he sipped from many cups, he drank of none. What he did have was a very high opinion of himself. He likes to say he graduated with the valedictorian of his class, but even this line was stolen from his friend Wonderful Russ.

He failed at almost everything he tried, except getting attention. He did this quite successfully all through grade school, high school and at the University of Arizona where he spent five years, amassing a 3.1 (C-) grade average and no degree.

BBB once contemplated doing an article entitled: "Day of Infamy Spawns Small Town Showoff." Based on the fact that his father was drafted in 1941 (after Pearl Harbor) and was stationed in Kingman, Arizona, where the Iowa buck private met and married Bobbie Guess, a rancher's daughter.

Of course, he famously claimed he did 10,000 bad drawings, but why didn't he take his wife's advice and do 10,000 loads of laundry, or something useful? He had no answer for this.

He was also fond of saying, "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results." As with the 10,000 bad drawings quest, he was very good at doing the same things over and over and expecting different results. When asked to be specific he replied, "Well, like this blog."
—The Critic

A Nation Weeps For The Loss of A Legendary Westerner
Never has the nation come to a stop quite like the news yesterday that legendary Zonie, Bob Boze Bell died after a third fatal heart attack. His body was not found for several days because he had fallen into the back part of his studio amidst a stack of unsold paintings. Only the growling of his faithful dog Peaches, who was chewing on one of BBB's apendages, alerted authorities.

Virtually every attractive woman he ever knew now admits they sure wished they had slept with him.
—Super Ego

"For everything you have missed, you have gained something else."
—Ralph Waldo Emerson

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