S. Tom "Red" Tubbler, 1912-2009

Wall boys, ah shore am glad t' be standin' up here in front o' y'all t'day! Those ladies back there n' the kitchin' shore can throw out a fine spread, cain't they? Let's have a big hand for them gals!

I heard one time from a fella I once met that there ain't no kinda barrel like a cracker barrel, and I believe that just may be what brings us all here t'gither t'day! We're just sittin' around here a-whittlin' and a-talkin', and jist no kinda fuss is gonna be made a-bout it! Putcher feet up on th' pickle barrel, pass thet whiskey bottle 'round. No one gon' see it; it's inna pay-per baaag!

I'll never f'rgit th' one time back up in 1931, when I come up all hell bent fer election over that dad-blasted Cabbage Hill down outta Poverty Flats and inta thuh...Inta thuh Pennelt'n there. I had just got caught in a dust n' rainstorm, and I walked inta the newspaper office there in my duster n' Stetson hat, all drippin' and droopy, makin' a puddle on the floor! The man at the desk looks at me and laughs, sez; "I knew if I sat here long enough, I'd see this day!" Then we laughed about it, and he let me marry his daughter!

Where was I? Oh, right: God! He come to me one night in m'sleep, and he taught me how to frame plywood! Joined unions, 'came a journeyman, involved in local organizations n' so-cial functions! Slapped t'gither th' Woodsman of the World headquarters n' exhibition pavilion, and walked a hundred miles!

Later, when the movies come t' town, I set myself up as a stuntman for Tom Mix's horse! Later, after his head was pulverized by the Death Suitcase, I was legal-guardian-in-waiting for his wife! Then the communists came, and we wuz' all outta a job!

I was the first man in the county to build a house on the lake, and I was married to my wife! My children? They're all in there! One of 'em grew up to ride that horse! He jus' looked at me and shook his head, tied 'im to a stick, threw it down a well!

Like any king hell bullshitter'll tell ya', you're only worth your last best story, and that's why I come here to tell you how you really need to drive a Pontiac today! Believe me folks; it really is more car for less money! Or take Greyhound Bus Lines, and let death take another holiday! Good night! God bless!

Peter Aaronson, 1947-2009

Crony, toady, pogy, lickspittle.
Apple-polisher, follower, hanger-on, backslapper, well-wisher.
Empty suit, coat holder, guy-we-kept-around-to-empty-the-ashtrays, "associate", errand boy.

These are just some of the ways we will remember Peter Aaronson.

With his omnipresent, ingratiating smile and looking around nervously to see how everyone else was reacting, he spent many undistinguished years doing whatever the hell it was he did for a living.

Raised in some podunk jerkwater somewhere out in the toolies, he got out of there the minute he finished high school, and then spent the rest of his life talking about how lucky he was to be born and raised in such a fine setting. What a strong moral grounding it gave him. Then he spent the rest of his life with his tongue up some mid-level supervisor's ass.

For the record, all the more specific he ever got about it was, "I'm employed by a private fiduciary concern." Jesus. Look, if you can't describe what it actually is, it's illegal. Or at very least, you don't talk that way about things that you're proud of.

He went to college in some bucolic, stagnant backwater and got a degree in 'Business'. Oh, bravo. Now here's a guy with some fresh ideas! Hey guys; here's this other guy who wants to do things for money! You think we oughta hire him? I mean, he doesn't actually do anything, and says he wants to come in here and sit at a desk, make money off of actual work being done by lesser-paid Others Elsewhere! I like the cut of his jib!

Making himself essential to the mysterious workings of the Managerial Class, this nonetheless introduced him to pretty much nobody interesting at all. He met other men and women just like him in his travels, which were, paradoxically, constant. There wasn't a Residence Inn (tm) that didn't see ol' Pete at one time or another!

When he was called upon for his ideas, there would be that reliable nervous chuckling he constantly emitted. Because he had none. This would be the case with everybody else up there in the Brain Trust; they had been talking to and surrounded only by other people just like them for too long. No amount of corporate seminars regarding 'thinking outside the box' were ever going to change that.

He married a woman that worked for the same company. She worked in another state though, because this company, despite having no noticeable reason to be, had offices in every state in the continental U.S., and in five countries overseas. Their union was noted with approval by the company, who then pooled their modest 401 Ks and health benefits.

They lived in a neighborhood that...Oh god, I can't do it. It's just too goddamn depressing.

He never met a stranger. By that I don't mean "...just a friend he hadn't made yet." I mean "he was terrified of people he didn't already know." Kinda hated 'em, actually.

Y'ever meet a guy like this (and of course you have; they're everywhere) and think, "Now there's someone who's going to climb up in a clock tower one of these days with a high powered rifle and start taking people out"? Well, you wouldn't be too far off the mark with Peter, except substitute 'congestive heart failure', and you'd be there.

Remembrances to...Whatever. Leave me alone.

-His Wife, employee # 48682976

Your Mom ?-?

Your Mom, after battling for many years with being so damn greasy she used bacon as a band-aid, has died. She was...Old.

In fact, she was so damn old that her Social Security Number was 1. In Roman Numerals. She was told to act her own age, and she died.

Damn, she was stupid. She was so damn stupid, it took her two hours to watch '60 Minutes'. One time when you told her it was chilly outside, she ran out there with a goddamn spoon.

It's true that her weight certainly contributed to her poor health. She was so damn fat, she ate Wheat Thicks. She'd go to a restaurant, look at the menu and go, "Okay!" She fell in love and broke it. We're standing in her right now.

But it's true that she was unique from an early age, and was born into challenging circumstances. For instance, the wooden leg with a kickstand certainly couldn't have helped. Neither did the glass eye with a fish in it. Ten fingers -all on the same hand- and missing so many teeth, it looked like her tongue was in jail. The hair on her upper lip was so thick, she could braid it.

Poverty dogged her many days: her house was so small, you had to go outside to eat a large pizza. Instead of a car, she drove a peanut. She'd drive it on down to KFC to lick other people's fingers, or over to McDonald's to put a shake on layaway. One time I saw her kicking a can down the street. I asked what she was doing, and she said, "Moving."

I don't blame her though; her house was so dirty, you had to wipe your feet before going outside.

Possible causes of death include getting tangled up in a cordless phone, or having an arm chopped off and all the gravy running out. In any case, would you just get off your mom, please? I just did!

All Who Oppose Me (all my life - soon, I think)

(Example Photo)

Yes, yes AT LAST! Victory shall be mine! It shall be swift, and it shall be TERRIBLE!
Skulls will grin lewdly from the door and post of every house of mine enemies, and the sea shall boil. My armies of stormtroopers and wrong-doers will be unleashed upon the unsuspecting world; the result: DOOM!

When, in the fullness of time, the day comes to pass that I take vengeance for all the manifold wrong done to me, bloodcurdling screams shall fill the air, and the cowardly lot who seek refuge will find no safe harbor! On this day, when the world knows the steely bite of my sword, a reckoning will be made, and I will stand triumphant. At this time, I shall laugh and laugh and laugh.

Fools! How did you think you would ever escape my wrath? For what purpose did you engage in your petty business and go about your meaningless lives? I suppose perhaps you thought I would forgive your myriad of slights and insults? YOU SUSPECTED WRONGLY, O SNICKERERS AND JUDGERS-OF-ME!

When the time came for you to invite me to the things that were my due, instead you chose to fail to issue any sort of invitation! It was as though you had not thought of me at all! I hung my head, rent my garments and gnashed my teeth. But soon, it shall be YOU who will be doing the gnashing!

I am the jury, and you, the condemned accused! Your punishment will be...Swift, and meted out! A stiff, stiff penalty! Oh, how you will lament and plead as you suffer! But I will give no quarter, as I sternly look upon you, remembering full well the torments you once gave me.

Like that one time? That wasn't funny. That really hurt me, and when you laughed, it just made it worse. How could you have been so thoughtless and mean? Well, NOW YOU'LL PAY! You fucked up, jack! I'm totally serious!

Shut up, all of you! You darken my days with your laughter and obviously having good times at my expense! And in my absence! My nighttimes are filled with lonely torment as I watch the television and brood darkly. But SOON, SOON THERE WILL BE A PAYING-UP OF THE BILL! I've been footing this one for too long!

I tried to give you my love, and my august approval of you. But would you listen, or even hear me? A thousand times NO! I just wanted to be friends, and occasionally share a non-sexual massage! Or just cuddle up for an afternoon nap! THAT'S ALL! And you said I was 'creepy' and 'unrealistic'! Well, the grim reality is now set to fall upon you all! You, yourselves will be...Creeping away to dark corners to escape the hard rain that's gonna fall! But you will fail in this endeavor, and have to face facts!

THIS ISN'T ABOUT YOU! IT'S ABOUT ME! I'M JUST ASKING FOR WHAT'S FAIR HERE! I SEE NO REASON WHY WE CAN'T HAVE A CIVIL DISCUSSION!

At the request of the deceased(s), there will be no service. Funerary arrangements by Kinky's Krematorium, 85568 Oak Harbor Lawn Drive. Remembrances to...The United Nations, I guess.

Innocent Bystander ?-a few minutes ago

An area man (or possibly a tourist) known for being on an escalator in a mall and remembered for his presence in the wrong place at the wrong time, has died.

The cause was multiple gunshot wounds from several different firearms, coming from many different directions, fired by various men, good and bad.

The international jewel smugglers and arms dealers that contributed to the final moments of the victim were rushing away from a foiled attempt at a heist of some sort, trailed by a maverick cop who didn't play by the rules and his long-suffering sidekick/partner. In a lagging pursuit were a no-nonsense guy from the Bureau, and several hapless uniformed cops.

At this time, the victim was traveling alone down the escalator in the mall where this chase was heading. He had purchased nothing, or at least carried no bags. He was alone, or at least there was no one that stuck around after the shots started flying. He had spent the day being unnoticed, and was blandly being shuttled to his demise.

Abruptly running the wrong way UP the 'down' escalator, the international criminals encountered the victim mid way up, knocking him down almost long enough for interested passers-by to note the details of his face, but not quite. From the bottom of the escalators, the maverick cop started firing, unfortunately clipping the victim, who was trying to get up.

Noting that their escape was being hampered by hot lead from behind, they picked up the victim and used him as a human shield while firing over his shoulder. The rounds continued to pump into the victim's chest, possibly rendering him dead at this point.

"POLICE!" yelled the police, who took up tactical positions and also commenced firing, wounding (at least) the victim in the cranial region repeatedly, and the now-crouching international criminals, who responded by indiscriminately spraying the immediate area with small-arms fire, hoping to kill enough people to permit escape. During this fray, the maverick cop's long-suffering partner, who was one day from retirement, was mortally wounded.

At this point, the criminals were completely surrounded by law enforcement, who were firing at will at the victim, propped up like a grisly rag doll while the cowardly villains crouched behind him, occasionally taking pot shots. It seemed for a while there that the victim was being kept upright only by the overwhelming amount of bullets impacting him from so many directions, despite being quite dead.

The no-nonsense suit from the Bureau arrived unheralded at the top of the escalator (it remains a mystery how), and decided that enough was enough, dammit, upon which he produced a white phosphorus grenade, which he activated and tossed into the bleeding, quivering mass of flesh in the center of the escalator. A large explosion with resultant skin-clinging fire was the result, putting a final finish on what remained of the victim at this point, but allowing the international criminals to escape in the confusion, somehow, despite being badly wounded themselves.

The maverick cop was consoling his dying partner and cursing God at this time, the few surviving uniformed cops were running toward the exits, and the no-nonsense Bureau man threw down his riot helmet and yelled "DAMMIT!!!".

Remembrances of this immediately-forgotten man were unavailable, as at that point the story-arc moved into a subplot about the maverick cop's ballbreaking ex-wife being killed -and his adorable grade-school age daughter kidnapped- by the international criminals, leading to an exciting standoff at a recognizably famous national monument.

The Fabulous Techniques 1988(?)-2008

Let the rockin' good times party people bow their heads in sorrow, and maybe tip a forty to the memory of these dead 'homies', The Fabulous Techniques. They've been 'knockin' 'em dead' for twenty years, and now...Well, they're with Elvis, Buddy Holly, Jim, Jimi and Janis in the big Rock n' Roll band in the sky!

Available for corporate events, celebrations of life, comings-of-age and civil unions, they played the kind of music that everybody could sing along to, and nobody could possibly object to. This was music for when you're on the job, and needed something to hum, keep your toe tappin'. When you yelled out "Freebird!" after a few too many brewskis, and needed a band that could go right into it perfectly, note for note.

Originating in the jazz/fusion scene around San Diego in the early '70's, they got their start as the Jim Gelman Odyssey. After two unsuccessful albums (1973's Ode to Captain Miracle and 1975's Encounter Group Jam) on a small local label (Reeferences), they disbanded and found work in the insurance industry. It was 1978, during the 'disco' times, that they found their way back into all of our hearts.

As a house band at the legendary basement nightclub Ludee's, there among the shag-carpeted (now as "Shag and the Carpets", a humorous reference to the decor) confines, they found their way, and carved out a new type of cover band. When Ludee's closed due to unpaid rent and drug rumors, they went back to the ol' woodshed ("We've always been a garage band, but my mom keeps tellin' us to quiet down out there!" Jim Gelman (far right in photo) once, said, with his trademark sense of humor).

In the early '80's, every hep cat could be found hanging out at Rockin' Rudy Tutti's Nifty Fifties Soda Shoppe n' Sock Hop on the Strip! And so could Jim and the Boys! This time they were named "Jimmy and the Chantrelles", not having heard of the popular and expensive mushroom of the same name. They greased their hair back, wore leather jackets and pegged jeans, and effectively epitomized the '50's ideal of "cool"!
The place sold "malts", "shakes" and "burgers" and "fries": all the things that remind you of the good old days back when we all were teenaged! Remember when? They played all the best tunes, until the management decided to go with a jukebox, then recorded music, then finally closing the business in 1986.

At this point, grizzled veterans of the road, journeymen musicians and axemen...Bards, if you will, they decided to form the ultimate tribute to their skills and the rock era itself: The Fabulous Techniques! Around this time, they made the acquaintance of one Gordon "Rusty" Feldkirsch (second from right in photo).

Rusty was another old hand in the music business. Having come up through various workshops and studio projects, he was the "sex symbol" of the band. He knew many people in the Jewish community, too, so suddenly "gigs" were rolling in!
Mitzvahs both bar and bat, weddings that involved knowing what to play during a hora, sophisticated in-between-song humorous patter, they had it all! It seemed their star ("...of David?" Haw! That Jim!) would never fall!

And for twenty years, it went that way. They never played a song that somebody didn't like. Their repetoire of twenty-some songs (including a stunning version of Mr. Neil Diamond's "Sweet Caroline"!) always got everybody up on their feet, and even when they would play the occasional controversial song from the radical '60's (as in The Doors' "Touch Me"), they did it with a smile on their faces, as if to let you know that everything was cool, and everybody was just trying to have a good time.

The fact that they could be felled by something as random and bizarre as contagious, deadly rosacea (contracted from Rusty; you can see the beginnings of what would be all their dooms on his right cheek in the photo) in no way takes away from the lasting legacy of musical quality and darn it, just makin' people happy thank you very much, that they leave behind.
The sons of Jim, Tony Dowes (second from left), Lou Cross (far left) and Art "Saxophone" Persipple (0n sax) have already made firm plans to continue the tradition, as The Fabulous Techniques II, with a more up-to-date, 'hip-hop' urban sound.

Rock In Peace! Remembrances may be made to the California State Republican party.

Ken "Kenny" Kennerson, 1963-2008

It would come as no surprise were you to look at the accompanying photo and scream, "NOOO!!!" How could anyone, you are thinking, so young and so boyishly handsome ever be passed on? How can the world survive under the sort of God that would allow this to happen?
What possibly could God have been thinking, if not maybe selfishly thinking only of his own comfort and not that of Kenny and his family!

He went to school right here in town, and was always proud to say it to all and any who would listen. All the teachers loved him, and if you run into anyone at all who went to school with him, they will immediately burst into tears remembering what an exceptional and handsome boy he was.


He loved his six children very much, as well as wives Charleene, Donnatella, Margice and McLeeanne. Also his other "wives" like...Suedell and many other too numerous to mention.

His love of hunting, fishing, the Lord, America and Football were noted by many. He loved to hang out with "the guys"! He had a job that he worked very hard at, and inspired the many others who he worked with to do the same!
When he was 14, he won a trophy! It was for the Dissemination of Good Citizenship from the Knights of Saint Urho, and he stood up there and just looked so proud, he didn't take off his tux for a month! Later, he would do the same after his third marriage.

His lifelong love of fast driving and cars kept him healthy and alert. His collection of racing jackets was a great source of pride. Once, he met a famous NASCAR racer whose name escapes me. He was so excited!

He was a "chocoholic"! Beer was one of his favorite things! A good hamburger always made him smile, and hot dogs too!
Baseball! Apple pie! Chevrolet! All of these he loved! Remember this great and unique man!

His collection of beer cans, shot glasses and matchbooks from fancy hotels kept him entertained, this is for sure. He was quiet but loving. Didn't say a lot to his kids but they knew their "daddy" cared about them alot! His wives didn't understand him, much to his chagrin, so he moved around sort of , from woman to woman. He

He was a proud member of the Boy Scouts of America. His legal name was Kenneth, but he always told everybody, "Call me Kenny!"
Now he's gone home to Heaven, which so many do not believe in These Days. But Kenny, unlike so many, was a Christian. He also served in the Army, but he didn't like to talk about that.

He was a good boy but that doesn't mean he didn't have a "rebellious streak"! He grew his hair so long in his teens that his grandfather (deceased) said, "Who's that pretty girl out there?" He liked rock n' roll music and was known at times to smoke "pot". It's all good though. Kenny had a good head on his shoulders and was a good man.
Sometimes he'd go out, get his load on and get in a fight. But then when we'd pick him up from jail in the morning, he'd be sitting there crying and asking why he was alive, so I knew he'd learned his lesson.

He was a Democrat in the Seventies, a Republican in the Eighties, a Democrat again in the Nineties and was a strong supporter of President George W. Bush after the attacks of September Eleventh until about six months ago. He voted for Obama.
His tee-shirts were always folded. He liked to say, "I call 'em like I see 'em."

The circumstances of his death needn't be dwelt upon here. Those who knew Kenny got what they had coming, and they knew it. he
His burial will be accompanied by a twenty-one gun salute, and music by the National Air Guard band. I will be weeping softly, dignified, as I am handed the folded-up flag there.