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Here is the speech that I gave at the Alex Brown memorial. Only 8 people were there to hear it, and Alex Brown listened over Internet wires. Here:
Ahem.
I actually typed "ahem." I planned to say that, and this explanation as well. This entire speech is typed out, and I will not deviate from the words or actions prescribed by them, not even when they tell me to crumple this sheet of paper into a ball and throw it at Nick Doyle's face.
Moving on, I would like to share a blurb that I have written about Alex. Hopefully, it will be on the sleeve of his first book, which can be expected in stores Fall, the year 2250, AD. Here is the blurb:
Alex Brown was born and raised. That is apparent, and is evidenced primarily by his existence in this realm of existence, which is the planet of America, in which he lives and flourishes. He was birthed into a family of high prestige. His father Scott "Uncle Scotty" Brown is considered to be one of the most influential, creative, and accomplished violin virtuosos of the 20th century. His mother, equally revered in different circles, is the inventor of the swimming pool.
Alex's birth took place at some point in the 1980s, AD. In my limited research, I have been unable to pinpoint an exact date or even year. These trivialities are not what concern me. What concerns me is Alex Brown is no longer here, in this town, in our lives, except for through the Internet. I'm not entirely sure that he is even alive at this moment in time. For all I know, he isn't. But that is beside the point.
Alex Brown, to me, is a man of great status and stature. He is just over 7 feet tall, metaphorically. Literally, he is just under 7 feet tall. The difference between his metaphorical and literal heights is his measurable influence upon us. He has gone above and beyond the call of duty by a few inches. Those few inches are what distinguishes him, what separates him. We have all heard the phrase "Size doesn't matter," and Alex Brown is living proof that this is far from the truth. Size does matter, and Alex is a very sizeable man. Trust me.
Alex Brown is tied for my favorite person. He is tied with Abraham Lincoln, also a man of formidable size. Due to my increasing dementia, I have over time begun to conflate these two giants of humanity. Despite this handicap, I would still like to recognize them for their accomplishments. I am, however, unable to discern which person accomplished what. I will instead list the accomplishments of both, and you, the audience, can do the attribution.
Either Alex Brown or Abraham Lincoln freed the slaves. Either Alex Brown or Abraham Lincoln delivered the Gettysburg Address. Either Alex Brown or Abraham Lincoln sometimes wore a tophat and had a beard. Either Alex Brown or Abraham Lincoln was assassinated by John Wilkes Booth.
These are the accomplishments of Alex Brown and Abraham Lincoln, combined and probably evenly split. I am not sure. I do wish to honor and congratulate them, though. Congratulations Alex and Abraham.
And also honor.
It is at this point in time that a normal speech would end. This, however, is no normal speech. This is a speech about Alex Brown, and like his legacy, it must press onward. Like a robot searching for oilcan, we must press onward. We must seek out the indomitable spirit of Alex Brown, and we must capture and utilize it. Without that spirit, you will die a slow, painful, and apathetic death. It might take 100 years, but it will kill you in the end. Alex Brown is the fountain of youth, and without him you will never live forever. Remember to never forget that, friends. Don't ever forget to remember.
Listen hard, everyone: Alex Brown is the embodiment of hope. Alex Brown, though frustrated with the banality of everyday life, refused to succumb. He traveled west, following the path of the sun on its daily revolution. He is now in Utah, the home of his native peoples.
I am, of course, talking about the Utah Jazz, Alex's favorite basketball team. Alex Brown and I have spent long hours discussing the revered duo of Karl Malone and John Stockton. They are idolistic men, and I can certainly understand why he worships them.
Alex Brown has always loved the arts. Alex can be described as an aficianado of everything artistic, from the great artists of abstract expressionism to their counterparts that specialized in post-abstract expressionism. He has also been known to dabble in the works of pre-abstract expressionists, though we can all agree that that field is a bit rudimentary in contrast. A bit dumb, also.
Alex Brown knows how to read, and he knows how to write. But he doesn't just know how. He knows how. He knows how so much that the how of the last sentence was typed in bold print. That's how much he knows how to read and write.
Alex Brown ghostwrote The Great Gatsby for F. Scott Fitzgerald in 1923. Don't believe me. Allow me to read an excerpt. Listen closely, the proof is in the pudding. Alex Brown loves to eat pudding.
The excerpt:
In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since.
"Whenever you feel like criticizing any one," he told me, "just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had. Also, Alex Brown is awesome. Now go, young Gatsby. Go and become great with this advice that I have just bestowed upon you. Bye-bye."
Did you catch it? Did you catch my intonation when I said bye-bye? I learned this from Alex Brown, who taught me the proper way in which it is to be enunciated in this story. How else would I know? There is your proof. There is your pudding. It's 100 proof pudding.
Alex Brown loves to listen to and produce music. He loves to hardcore dance with his fists to Elliott Smith music when he gets sad. If he had the opportunity, he would have hardcore punched Elliott Smith right in the face. That's how much he respected Elliott Smith.
Alex Brown loves movies. I remember several hundred years ago when Alex Brown had a cameo in one of the short films of SRJProductions, in which I was the original "R." Alex Brown was playing the role of the guy who holds the lights, shining it upon the actor. Joey Beachum, who is not the original "J" of SRJP, walks past him and says something to the effect of, "Sorry, bro." Alex Brown said something to the effect of "You're straight, maine. You're straight."
These words could be considered the mantra of Alex Brown. In a bind, he would close his eyes and repeat them to himself over and over, sitting indian style on a rug, with his hands in that little "Okay" symbol, but not meaning to mean "Okay." Okay?
He would repeat it hundreds upon hundreds upon tens upon once at a time. "You're straight, maine. You're straight." And he would be straight. And I don't mean not gay, though I could mean that, because I don't think that he is gay. So let's say that the mantra is a double entrendre, meaning that "Everything is going to be okay, and also you are not gay."
Of course, Alex Brown does not only tolerate the gays, but he loves them. He loves to tolerate the gays, and he tolerates the fact that he loves them. He is an open-minded man, despite countless highly invasive surgeries that he has had to have his mind closed.
Metaphorical surgeries, performed by a variety of school teachers throughout his upbringing. Alex Brown refused to believe in history or math or science or physical education or technology discovery. Alex takes everything with a grain of salt.
Alex Brown loves salty foods. He loves soy sauce and ramen noodles. He loves them together, with additional grains of salt added. That is how he takes everything.
The next sentence is in parentheses.
(Note to self: shuffle through your papers, as if you are lost. Begin to ramble.)
I am now shuffling through my papers, pretending to be rambling. I hope that everyone believes that I'm truly lost and rambling.
(Note to self: regain composure.)
Now that I have regained composure, allow me to move onward. Let's discuss Alex Brown's achievements as an athletic athlete.
Alex Brown is an achiever. He has spent long hours on the winding roads of Tupelo, MS. Long hours driving to the trails on which he loves to run. They are very far away, but highly conducive to his long-term development as a distance runner. Their soft surfaces allow him to run high mileage with reduced chance of injury.
Alex Brown can run 20 miles at a time, easy. He can run them at a faster pace than you can run one mile, except for a couple of you. Those couple are John Ballard and Dustin Doyle. He can run like the wind, on a day that the wind is somewhere below 17 miles an hour, which I estimate to be his maximum velocity. Alex will someday run in the Olympics, and he will bring home the silver medal for our country. That day will be the proudest day of my entire lifetime, except for each subsequent day that follows. My proudness follows a linear growth.
It is at this exact point that an Alex Brown speech comes to an abrupt end. Bye-bye.
The next sentence is in parentheses.
(Note to self: crumple this paper into a ball and throw it at Nick Doyle's face.) |
