Long-time readers of this blog are familiar with the appellation with which I have saddled my dad...FlatulenceKing. It is a well-deserved title and one that he felt no shame in wearing.
The use of the past tense in that last sentence is no mistake, by the way. He Who Must Not Be Smelled has indeed passed from this life to the next...and the use of the word "passed" in that last sentence WAS a mistake, though a punny one.
Dad's LazyBoy is being donated to the research and development department of the local pesticide factory.
I owe a debt to my dad for his sense of humor and orneriness that lives on in me. Much of the twisted logic and politically incorrect so-what-osity that I inflict on you in this blog is his fault.
[Sure, Dewey...blame somebody who isn't around to defend themselves...]
I got to share a great story about FK at the memorial service. It came from one of his eleven grandchildren - my nephew, Todd - and is a tribute that fits well in a humor blog:
Grandpa meant a lot more to me than the too few visits and short talks over recent years would suggest. I was proud of him and his life, the way he was. I remember a story my dad told me from back when he and my mom were a young family. Grandpa was helping them move and they had packed up all their things; loaded the truck. Old place was empty and it was time to start the truck and go. Grandpa said, "Wait, one thing." Goes back inside and unscrews all the light bulbs, takes them, "now we're ready." That's thorough.(For a more-reverent thought on my dad's death, go to my other blog, "Truth Is...", by clicking here.)