January 11th, 2007


23 Skidoo, Mr. Wilson

Well, deaths are supposed to come in threes, right? Iwao Takamoto went, which sucked. Yvonne De Carlo went, and that was ungroovy. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop...looks like it has, and it's one that hurts on a deeper level than I imagined.

R.I.P. Robert Anton Wilson, January 18, 1932 – January 11, 2007

Bob had post-polio syndrome which had severely damaged his legs and weakened his body. He had a hard fall in June of last year which landed him in the hospital. He had since not been able to walk and was thus confined to his bed, requiring 24 hour care. Due to Bob's acute weakness in June and July, many of his family and friends felt that Bob could go at any time. He had since rallied slowly with up's and down's, and like most things, his condition seemed in the maybe state. The outpouring of support from family, friends, and fans all over the world "dumbfounded, flabbergasted, and totally stunned" him.

Bob's writings did more than entertain me. They taught me, shaped me, and changed me in more ways than I could begin to list. He showed me things I'd never seen, and then made me face them and understand them without giving in to them. It sounds a little cheesy, but saying that reading his work made me the man I am today isn't all that far off from the truth.

This one is a loss most personally felt. Yeah, it wasn't a part of my daily movement, and no, I never met the man or passed words with him, but he was an important figure in the shaping of my life. Farewell, Bob. Maybe the beings from Sirius took you away, in the end, or maybe you're on a huge gold submarine with Hagbard, or maybe, just maybe, They finally silenced you. Or maybe you just died, because that's what happens, eventually. You were a hoot, no matter what.

Hail Eris! All Hail Discordia!