Monday, August 16, 2010
Best of Buf
Each of us, when he or she writes, has in mind an Ideal Reader whom we're trying to reach. With each phrase, we consciously or unconsciously tune our communication to one frequency, trying to elicit a specific emotion from this Reader.
Over the past couple of weeks I've come to realize that my Reader, particularly for my jokes, was a man known in blogworld as Buffalodick. though in liveworld he went by the name of Richard DeYoung.
The author of a mostly-cooking blog called Opinions and Rectums, We All Got One, Buf died suddenly on July 26th, a fact which his son was kind enough to login and share with us later that day. Buf has been leaving me comments since about six weeks after I fired up the Chronicles. Usually funny, often sardonic, what made Buf my Reader was that for my Old Jokes, he was outright critical, letting me know when I was trying to resurrect an oldy moldy, when I failed to bring the funny, and, on rare occasions, when I nailed one.
Oftentimes comments would lead to email exchanges that would go on for days, swapping stories and sharing ideas.
I can't tell you how much I'm going to miss that.
Herewith are some prime Buf moments:
In response to a list of 7 Things that Are Difficult to Do:
I've gotten into a pair of pantyhose easily, but had to buy her a new pair afterward! HeeHeeHee....
To my post a few weeks back, regarding my deep-seated fear of underpants:
My whitey tighties become a thong the first time I bend over that day...
After an Old Joke set in Ireland:
I finally met the girl of me dreams.
Who could ask for more?
She's deaf, she's dumb, and oversexed,
And owns a liquor store...
He had a serious side, too. Regarding a post on an awkward lunch with an old high school flame:
Our lives are made up of moments where decisions were not even made consciously, but affected our lives and the events in our lives forever. If I got half of what I wanted, I'd be in jail! If I got half of what I deserved- same result!
When I grumbled about receiving an ad, via the mail, selling pre-paid funeral services, he said:
I'm to be cremated, and my wife will take the ashes, send them to the four winds, and say "Here's the blow job you always were bothering me about"....
And in response to the December, 2008 post of my short story, "The Year of Our Charlie Brown Christmas":
These are what memories are about- good, bad, they all create who we are and who we become! You only have X amount of air left to breath- breathe deeply!
I'm pretty sure you did that, Buf.