Irish Mike

Someone I didn’t really know; I’d bought him many drinks, and he’d bought many for me; we’d talked the bollocks that men talk and we’d laughed together.

Anyway, just had a phone call this early morning to tell me he was found dead.

Slainte Mike ye wee paddy, I hope your road is strewn with pretty colleens and the smoothest of Irish whiskey. Tonight in the pub we’ll drink to ye, ye wee fenian bastard, and I hope ye get home safely.

:(


It’s not nice to be reminded of our own mortality.


Life’s too short for us to chuck our own crap into it as well.

Wihan

It’s a bleak reality check when people around us die Ali. Kind of puts some of our (the forum) more meaningless arguments into perspective.
Life’s too short!!
Take care mate. Have a wee dram for me, might have a large one tonite, feeling the need.
Cheers!!
Ian

Quote (Wihan Stemmet @ Aug. 21 2005,04:59)
:(


It's not nice to be reminded of our own mortality.


Life's too short for us to chuck our own crap into it as well.

Wihan

Absolutely right! And, as I think I've pissed u off on more than one occasion Wihan, this would be an opportune time to say " Sorry mate!". I'm just a stubborn old bugger sometimes :)

Take care,
Ian
Quote (Bruffie @ Aug. 21 2005,05:20)
Absolutely right! And, as I think I've pissed u off on more than one occasion Wihan, this would be an opportune time to say " Sorry mate!". I'm just a stubborn old bugger sometimes :)

Take care,
Ian

I honestly have no idea what you are talking about !
No apology needed for something that didn't happen.

You're from the UK right ?

I need to visit you as well Ali when I'm over there.

Take care Ian !

Wihan

Sorry to hear it Tank… R.I.P. Mike.

TG

<!–QuoteBegin>

Quote
Many times man lives and dies
Between his two eternities,
That of race and that of soul,
And ancient Ireland knew it all.
Whether man die in his bed
Or the rifle knocks him dead,
A brief parting from those dear
Is the worst man has to fear.
Though grave-diggers’ toil is long,
Sharp their spades, their muscles strong.
They but thrust their buried men
Back in the human mind again.


Always liked that, from Yeats, “Under Ben Bulben” here:
http://www.poetryconnection.net/poets/William_Butler_Yeats/3385

And the last lines:

<!–QuoteBegin>
Quote
No marble, no conventional phrase;
On limestone quarried near the spot
By his command these words are cut:

Cast a cold eye
On life, on death.
Horseman, pass by!

Thanks guys, and I’m sure Mike’s shade, wherever it is, thanks you too.

Tom, Mike would appreciate those words. He always talked about going home, and I really hope he does now.

And I think he also appreciated one of his favourite songs that was sung at the wake only a short time ago.

I’ve just done a search, and found the lyrics.

It’s by Shel Silverstein, and it’s sung to the same tune as his original song. It made us all laugh, and I’m sure Mike is chuckling too.

THE FATHER OF THE BOY NAMED SUE

[Silverstein’s speaking voice:] ”Okay… now years ago, I wrote a song named “A Boy Named Sue”, and that was okay and everything, except then I started to think about it, and I thought, “It is unfair. I am looking at the whole thing from the poor kid’s point of view. And as I get more older and more fatherly, I begin to look at things from an old man’s point of view. So… I decided to give the old man equal time. Okay. Here we go.”

Yeah, I lef’ home when the kid was three.
It sure felt good to be fancy free
Tho I knew it wasn’t quite the fatherly thing to do.
But that kid kept screamin’ and throwin’ up
And pissin’ in his pants til I had enough
So just for revenge I went and named him Sue.

It was Gatlinberg in mid July
I was gettin’ drunk but gettin’ by
Gettin’ old and going from bad to worse
When thru the door with an awful scream
Comes the ugliest queen I’ve ever seen
He says my name is Sue. How do you do?
Then he hits me with his purse.

Now this ain’t the way he tells the tale
But he scratched my face with his fingernails
And then he bit my thumb and kicked me with his high-heeled shoe.
So I hit him in the nose, and he started to cry
And he threw some perfume in my eye
And it sure ain’t easy fightin with a boy named Sue.

So I hit him in the head with a caned-back chair
And he screamed, “Hey Dad, you mussed my hair!”
And he hit me in the navel and knocked out a piece of my lint.
He was spittin’ blood. I was spittin teeth.
And we crashed through the wall and out into the street
A-kickin and gougin’ in the mud and the blood and the crème de menth.

Then out of his garter he pulls a gun.
I’m about to get shot by my very own son.
He’s screamin’ about Sigmond Freud and lookin’ grim.
So I thought fast and I told him some stuff
How I named him Sue just to make him tough.
And I guess he bought it, cuz now I’m livin’ with him.

Yeah, he cooks and sews and cleans up the place.
He cuts my hair and shaves my face.
And irons my shirts better than a daughter could do.
And on the nights that I can’t score,
Well, I can’t tell you anymore.
Sure is a joy to have a boy named Sue.

Yeah, a son is fun,
But it’s a joy to have a boy named Sue.

Quote (Wihan Stemmet @ Aug. 21 2005,11:40)
I honestly have no idea what you are talking about !
No apology needed for something that didn't happen.

You're from the UK right ?

I need to visit you as well Ali when I'm over there.

Take care Ian !

Wihan

I'm from the UK, the real part North of Hadrians Wall. But I've lived in Dubai for the last 8 yrs and no plans to leave for a few years yet. But if you and Ali want to come here we could have a good time :)

Check out the pic on my Home page and you will see how to have fun while you're singing :)
Cheers....Ian

Bruffie's Homepage

<!–QuoteBegin>

Quote
But if you and Ali want to come here we could have a good time


Sound good to me Ian, when and if I finally get mobile. :)

We can sit and drink and yakk, and solve the ultimate theological problem:

Wihan can bring the needle, you provide the camel, and I’ll supply and operate the mincing machine! :D

Ali
Quote (Sceptic Tank @ Aug. 23 2005,15:58)
Sound good to me Ian, when and if I finally get mobile. :)

We can sit and drink and yakk, and solve the ultimate theological problem:

Wihan can bring the needle, you provide the camel, and I'll supply and operate the mincing machine! :D

Ali

I'm good to go for that.

Sounds liked you've solved the ultimate theological problem! And here was me thinking the ultimate theological problem was " God! I need another drink!" :)
That's 2 uses for a Camel now then! ( sorry 3!! You can also ride it.)

Cheers,
Ian

What does a camelburger taste like ?

:D

Well, while we’re on the subject, a good friend of mine in St. Louis just committed suicide.

His name was Hunter. He was an awesome local musician, with a range of knowledge about any topic that was fascinating. We could talk philosophy, religion, physics, literature, electronics, anything… and he could freestyle rap, play bass, DJ, and ply fingerstyle folk guitar and hoot and holler like a man drawn straight from 60 or 70 years ago.

Here’s an article about him.

http://www.riverfronttimes.com/issues/2005-08-10/music/music.html


His fiance, Lindy, is also a very close friend of mine and she just left the country to go do what I just got back into the country from doing: being an ESL teacher ( although she went the Russia, and I was in China). She’s rather shook up.

:(

That’s a real bummer Illium. 31! He had a whole life in front of him. :(

I know only too well that there’s times when despair and futility stare us right in the face, and there seems no way out.

But suicide? It just leaves us with no other options, ever.

Ali