“Rich But No Longer Moist”
As a long time devourer of Betty Crocker’s baked goods, this caught me by surprise, all this time I thought Betty Crocker was alive. Old, but alive! On a side note, I’m a die hard fan of her Ultimate Chocolate Chip Cookies Recipe. “Despite inability to think outside the box”, the obituary reads, “[Betty Crocker] was a successful marketer.” Ain’t that the truth (I mean the marketer bit).
Death By Beer Truck
There’s something to be said about wanting to die a certain way. Unfortunately for Jim, his desire “to be run over by a beer truck on the way to the liquor store to buy booze for a date” could not come true. He did manage to leave behind some sound advice though: “get rip roaring drunk and tell stories he no longer can”.
The Brassiere Maven
Make no mistake. Selma Koch, pictured above, was more than just an average old woman. At least, that’s what her obituary in NY Times made her out to be:
“Selma Koch, a Manhattan store owner who earned a national reputation by helping women find the right bra size, mostly through a discerning glance and never with a tape measure, died Thursday at Mount Sinai Medical Center. She was 95 and a 34B.”
The Hat Lady Isabella Blow
Fashion designers are prone to making extravagant, and at times head-turning entrances. But what about exits? English fashionista Isabella Blow (born November 19 1958; died May 7 2007) nailed it on that front. She was remembered by the Guardian like so: “She is survived by Detmar [Blow] and a considerable hat collection.”
James A. Schinneller
Jim Schinneller was a jokester in life and in death. Despite his position as a retired professor at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee, he was known throughout his family as someone who laughed…a lot. He even got his partner to take a picture of the back of his head as a kind of heirloom for his grandchildren.
Roosevelt Conway’s (born December 24, 1946; died April 2, 2005) obituary was more of an advertisement for his widow Pee Wee’s helpful and nurturing personality, especially because she had been instrumental in making insurance possible for Roosevelt. Aside from being a hard working man, he was known to “also love drinking his liquid”, as the obituary puts it, and that “he loved music, his favourite sond was “Stroking” by Clarence Carter.” The first impression you got when meeting Roosevelt was one of a kind, “you probably wouldn’t like him, because of his choices of words and the harshest of his tone of voice. He reminds of BJ, that TV series with Mr. T (“What you looking at fool.”)
The Extravagant Host
I don’t have anything even in the slightest to contribute to this one. My brain cells are still trying to recover from the disruption caused by the reading of Gottfried von Bismarck’s obituary:
“Count Gottfried von Bismarck, who died on July 2, 2007, aged 44, was a louche German aristocrat with a multi-faceted history as a pleasure-seeking heroin addict, hell-raising alcoholic, flamboyant waster and a reckless and extravagant host of homosexual orgies. When not clad in the lederhosen of his homeland, he cultivated an air of sophisticated complexity by appearing in women’s clothes, set off by lipstick and fishnet stockings. Never concealing his homosexuality, von Bismarck continued to appear in public in various eccentric items of attire, including tall hats atop his bald Mekon-like head. At parties he would appear in exotic designer frock coats with matching trousers and emblazoned with enormous logos. Flitting from table to table at fashionable London nightclubs, he was said to be as comfortable among wealthy Eurotrash as he was on formal occasions calling for black tie.”
The obituary in its entirety can be found on Telegraph.co.uk. Good luck!
She Was Hobby-less
Dolores Aguilar (1929 – Aug. 7, 2008) was an amazing person and a delightful mother I’m sure. But that’s not the impression you from her obituary written by her daughter. Aside from children, she left behind a legacy that makes questions morality and whether she was actually as miserable as her daughter makes her out to be.
Her daughter writes in the Times-Herald Napa/Sonoma paper, “Dolores had no hobbies, made no contribution to society and rarely shared a kind word or deed in her life. I speak for the majority of her family when I say her presence will not be missed by many, very few tears will be shed and there will be no lamenting over her passing… There will be no service, no prayers and no closure for the family she spent a lifetime tearing apart.”
Back Stabbers Owe Him Money
Thurman Winston was remembered by his friends and family normally enough until the very last bit of the obituary: “He leaves to cherish his memories his wife, children and grand kids, a host of back stabbing mother f****** that still owe him money.” How subtle.
A ‘Safe’ Confession
If confessing is a problem for you, take notes from Val Patterson’s (1953 – 2012) book. This man, dying of throat cancer, had the last laugh on his self-written obituary. At one point he confesses to stealing a safe and at the same time drops an anvil on his colleagues, he writes, “As it turns out, I AM the guy who stole the safe from the Motor View Drive Inn back in June, 1971. I could have left that unsaid, but I wanted to get it off my chest. Also, I really am NOT a PhD.” Also, he had the best mottos ever! “My life motto was: ‘Anything for a Laugh’. Other mottos were ‘If you can break it, I can fix it’, ‘Don’t apply for a job, create one’. I had three requirements for seeking a great job; 1 – All glory, 2 – Top pay, 3 – No work.” Val Patteron’s obituary made headlines on various news websites and his complete obituary can be found on Legacy.
He’d Make A Good Grand Theft Auto Player
I could not dig up enough information on Mike “Flathead” Blanchard to uncover why he loved booze, guns, cars and younger women, but judging from his paid obituary published in the Denver Post, he had quite a life carved out for himself:
“Weary of reading obituaries noting someone’s courageous battle with death, Mike wanted it known that he died as a result of being stubborn, refusing to follow doctors’ orders and raising hell for more than six decades. He enjoyed booze, guns, cars and younger women until the day he died.
So many of his childhood friends that weren’t killed in Vietnam went on to become criminals, prostitutes and/or Democrats. He asks that you stop by and re-tell the stories he can no longer tell. As the Celebration will contain Adult material we respectfully ask that no children under 18 attend.” Is this the most badass obituary or what?