In Memoriam

Your faithful correspondent reading from Jonny's Enemies List at his mother's memorial service
The Brothers Mullich scattered the ashes of their mother on Sunday. I suppose that's a bizarre experience for anyone but it shook me up because rather than reading a passage from the Bible of some other profound tome, I recited a selection from Jonny's Enemies List that I posted on the day Mom died; which was written with affection but didn't shy away from remembering some of her more controversial personality traits. So it was with all the mourners, who each took a moment to reflect on what a pain in the ass she could be (Bro Joe told a memorable story about how she picketed a place of business when she was going through a period of joblessness, where it ultimately turned out that she hadn't applied for employment). I've been to a number of memorial services and this was the first one where all the speakers didn't paint verbal hosannas of praise about the sainted corpse, even as those in attendance rolled their eyes at some of the more implausible exaggerations or skipping over of historical facts. I'm glad we didn't remember Mom as an idealized version of something she never was but rather spoke of her as a real human being who walked the earth with all of the flaws and shortcomings that contribute to making us real human beings. But the last words I spoke at the ritual were something I whispered into the urn just before I released my portion of her ashes into the Pacific Ocean. What those words were are between Mom and me but I will tell you that they overlooked any of the human frailties mentioned in my eulogy and expressed a profound love that is unique between a mother and a son. I find it comforting that for all her I Love Lucy antics that she pulled off during her lifetime, after their physical remains were consigned to the dust from whence they came it was only her love which was left behind. That might seem like a strange thing for me to write in something called an Enemies List, but I need to slip in some sentimental goo once in a while. I never know when I'll need to read one of these things at a memorial service.

Bro Joe, with whom I attended a Halloween do on Friday. Joe came as the devil and I was dressed as Prince Valiant, primarily because I had a wig which suited the character. Alas, everyone was eerily familiar with Joe's character but no one had the slightest idea who Prince Valiant was. Alas, it was only when I was faced with hostile confrontations about my get-up that I realized that I didn't know anything about the dude other than the hairdo. So I sought out information about him in the center of all knowledge, Wikipedia and discovered that Valiant came from a comic strip drawn by a guy named Hal Foster starting in 1937 and appropriately titled Prince Valiant in the Days of King Arthur, rising to enormous popularity in its day. Foster quit drawing the strip in 1971 and a few years later underwent an operation, the prolonged anesthesia he underwent destroying his memory so that he couldn't remember anything about Prince Valiant. He would have fit right in at the Halloween party were went to. I bet he'd have no problem knowing who the fucking devil was either.

Enemies List favorite Mara Marini, who I saw perform in the comedy show Mo & Tell on Monday night. It was a violation of the terms of her restraining order against me when I showed up at the theatre closer than 500 yards from her, but it was worth it when she told a number of delightful stories about her fractured love life. Some I already knew, like the time she went on an Internet date with a dude who turned out to be a porn star (she watched some of his films afterwards and decided against a second date because "he committed the unforgivable sin of being a bad actor”). Others were new to me, like the time she went on another Internet date and her new friend was arrested during the course of it. I would have liked to hear more details on that one but the police broke in just at that moment to arrest me for violating the terms of the restraining order. As they tazed me into submission, I took solace in the knowledge that this was the closest I would ever get to going on a date with Ms. Marini. I'd like to think that when she got home, she checked out some of the porn that I've starred in.

Tom Ashworth, who announced on election day "Decided I'm not a fan of California's open primaries, only top two candidates on ballet. I had a choice of Benito Mussolini or Francisco Franco for U.S. House of Representatives...couldn't even write in Jon Mullich like I normally do." I have no doubt that Mr. Ashworth was just being flippant but if I were elected to high office, my first act would be legislation that made being Tom Ashworth illegal. I realize that would put Mr. Ashworth in an awkward situation so that he'd have to scramble to find someone else to be. I guess that he could probably be my mother since that job is currently open and he's just about a big enough pain in the ass to take the previous occupant's place. He lacks her endearing Lucy Ricardoesque quirkiness though and would bring to the position a horrifying oddball quality that would inspire me to whisper something other than words of endearment to his ashes just before consigning them to the waters. And rather than gently scattering his remains into the Pacific Ocean, I think I'd be inclined to just flush them down the toilet. I will recite from the Enemies List, though. I think the last thing anyone should say about Ashworth is to call him an asspotato.