That confirms it; I’m definitely the type to cry over dead strangers. But was he really a stranger? Not really, not to me. I saw his face all the time. We all got to know his various incarnations, at least…
- He was Drop Dead Fred, the imaginary friend you wish you had (and if you’re fucked-up enough to want him around, then it means you definitely need him).
- He was the outspoken, anarchic, and incorrigibly opinionated Young One.
- He was Alan B’stard, the self-appointed minister of brazen bullshit.
And so much more.
He shoved so many characters in our faces and had no time or inclination to apologise for it. And now it’s over. At least he was artistically prolific while he lived. I’m still more than just a little bit bummed, though.
Crazily-coloured big-kid coveralls.
Spasmodic and idiotic.
Mister Mayall falls.
Drop Dead at home; but… why?
Scumbag College Alumni.
56 is too Young for One to die.
Could never cop out.
Never, in the name of Scum.
No other nouse
Could ever run this Guest House,
Or make it look nearly half as fun.
RIP Rick the Prick.
Achtung for the Anarchic.
Comic turns to tragic…
Today, yesterday, years ago…
Formes Frustes – Fred’s Dead (2014)