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Ted’s Dead

The air is cold today. It brings a crisp sting to your nose. As brutal as this Chicago winter can be, I’m glad to feel the sharp breeze scrape my face. Don't get me wrong, I’d much rather be in a California-like climate, but today I’m just happy to be anything at all.

Ted died today. He was the VP of the company that I work for. He was a wild soul. Rambunctious is a good word. None of the walls in our corporate facility were named Ted (after all, who would pick such a dull name), but they might as well have been. They carried the sound of his voice or at least couldn’t stop it.

Ted was a comic. I don’t think he ever did any shows for money, but people in the office seemed to be familiar with a few of his stand up routines. Some people may sugar coat it and describe them as raunchy, x-rated, risque or whatever. I don’t know how to describe his performances, but fuck… they were funny. Typically the more absurd, the more I seemed to enjoy them.

I was glad I met someone like Ted, sure he was the VP and could be an asshole at times, but he was proof that you could grow up without becoming a prude boring hag. That you could grow up without actually growing up. Everyone ages, but few are able to preserve the ferocious tenacity of their character, like Ted.

What a wild guy. I’m not really sure what Ted believed in or how he would've wanted to be sent off (I probably shouldn’t guess out loud in this entry either) so I’ll say “Thank you and till next time man.”       

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