Captain Rowdy Has Died-The Worst Obituary Ever
Captain Rowdy used to be my best friend. I felt like he was the only dude I EVER had in my life that totally got where I was coming from and what I was going through. It was crazy, we’d riff on comedy then talk about depression. We’d tell the filthiest,nastiest, grossest stories and jokes and then when I had to go he’d say “I luv ya champ”. Then I quit talking to him. Now, he has passed away.
Captain Rowdy was simply the filthiest comedian ever. If you have the stomach, check out some of the video below. He was huge around these parts. I helped him make the jump from small clubs to bigger shows. We did one show at the Depot Warehouse that did so many people, he had to carry the money out in two paper grocery sacks, and he couldn’t close the tops. He’d come on the morning show for three days prior to the shows and we’d just rock all week long. One time he came in and he was really woozy and his breath could knock a train over, it was then me and Jacqui (my partner at the time) realized ‘this guy has diabetes”. We talked him into going into the doctor and sure as sh*t, he had it hardcore. His diabetes got bad enough that he literally cooked his feet over a heater grate while doing a charity function in Alaska. That, for the most part put an end to his ‘stand up’ comedy career. After a few years I heard he was feeling down so I had him start doing a weekly bit on my show. It really picked him up and that’s when we started being the best of best friends. Not long after that he scored himself a radio gig and did well for a while. After losing that gig (and he didn’t deserve to lose that gig by the way), his health came and went. We remained best buds and when I got a skeleton tattoo to represent “comedy” (I have 13 skeleton icons all representing different attributes) I was going to get Bill Hicks as a skeleton, but decided that Rowdy’s look cut a better profile. So, I have a tattoo of the dude on my leg.
I called him the night of a Ricky Hatton pay per view (Rowdy really got me into boxing). Hatton had taken a major beat down. I remember saying to Rowdy ‘so he’s done, huh?” and he went off on me like he’d been saving it up for years. I don’t know what flipped his switch but he started using me for a verbal punching bag. About two minutes in, if that, I hung up the phone and never talked to him again. He tried to call me a half dozen times or so after that, but I never talked to him. Since this guy knew me so well, just 90 seconds or so was all it took to rip me to shreds and make me feel like the only person who ever understood me just threw me in the trash.
I’m sure he deserved bad days like anyone else. Or he may have been trying to run people off because he knew his health was sketchy. I’ll never know now. It’s not that big of deal. If you think of your life, you’ve probably had four or five ‘best friends’ during your life and you’d drifted apart or just went different ways. It was cool that for five years or so, I didn’t feel alone in the world and I guess that was good, so I should thank him for that. Since we were no longer friends at the time of his death, I don’t really know what to say.
So why write an obituary saying the guy was a prick? We’ll I guess because we were two of a kind.