RIP Professor Emeritus Sir Bankwell Brokely Esquire III
professor's slippery fingers pried a button from his
hundred-dollar moehair suit and fetched a cigarette, because he knew
the house-fire or the cigarettes were going to kill him sooner or
later. It was the house-fire that did it, though. (Ommmmm Namah Shivaaaaaaa)
Let's remember the man.
career was kind of distinguished. Despite a staggering lack of interest
and a trick deck stacked three stories tall against him, he forged
the Piss-Ant Genome Mapping Project. He even let me count the piss-ants
as he dropped them from tweezers into a pyrex beaker. ...Memories...
"ONE!" ..we screamed together...
"TWO!" ..spit shooting from our trembling, trembling mouths...
summer I helped him move from one small laboratory in downtown
Shanksville to another across the street, and while we were struggling
with a bench that he initially described as "more awkward than heavy,"
we began to ponder some very deep and metaphysical questions. What if
life is just a big dream and someday we'll all wake up in a different
universe with different sensations and lubricants?
life is a dream," he said, "and I've spent the dream conducting
experiments on piss-ants, then I'm going to choke a toddler when I wake
Brokely's father was a Sergeant
in the sixth Barbary War. His mother dressed in riddles and adhered to
a strict diet of curried twigs and bumble bees. Of their nine children,
eight lost a prolonged, if not extremely short, battle with wet
The professor is survived by
his apprentice, that is, myself, and maybe a handful of notebooks
filled with musings and sketches that I'm lucky enough to be in
possession of and will make public as soon as feasible. A sample:
If I could be a ship
I'd be one in a bottle
No wind to break my clip
No crew to set my throttle
if my glass should break... OK... there's a guy coughing in the coal
shaft next to mine and it's not just a normal cough that you can ignore
and work around. It's like a wimpy, persistent cough that sounds
intentionally annoying and unproductive. Just get it out of your
system, guy. Cough hard a couple times and end it. None of this
nonsense. Cough like a man. Loud and clear and authoritative. A cough
that commands respect and applause even, or at least a good eulogy when
you die from dust pneumonia.
- Professor Emeritus Sir Bankwell Brokely Esquire III