You-logy: Alex Bowden

Alex smiling as a woman gets run over by a car before his very eyes.

Alexander Bowden – humorist, activist, absurdist, and sexist is no more. What can one say about Alex that he hasn’t said about himself? No really, what can one say that he literally hasn’t discussed in too much detail or in an overtly annoying way? I actually can’t think of anything besides the obvious.

“Dude, I’m not feeling so well, I think I’m gonna die.”

We should have listened. But alas, he is no more. When I was asked to do this eulogy, I wondered, is anyone else capable of writing this? Can anyone else throw together some nice words about Alex? Something that will mark his life achievements and memorable moments in a positive way? None of these questions were answered and subsequently, I am stuck doing my own goodbye.

I could start by saying “I was born in Providence, Rhode Island…yadda, yadda, yadda, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera,” and so forth. But that would already nullify any interest for a guy who already doesn’t have anyone who wants to write a eulogy for him. For this predicament, I consulted

funeralplanner.com.au.

Yes, .au. It seems the Australians have a monopoly on the death and sadness industry. The website from the land-down-under states “these sample eulogies are here to help inspire you…” and damnit, inspiration is exactly what I need right now. We’re going try three attempts at a self-eulogy based on the samples provided by the shrimp-on-the-barbie-eating prisoner colonists. Like most of my life, I will pass the burden of work on to an external individual or group. Remember, the following eulogies are written based on fake people that did not exist but are reframed to include my name and likeness. Let’s begin.

1. “Alex was an incredible matriarch. Really, she was the regal leader in our family. She baked and cooked and babysat and took us shopping and saw our new clothes when we were little. She was always present, part of our everyday lives in such a tangible way. As a child, I had friends whose grandparents had retired to Florida and I remember feeling that while they were lucky enough to get a yearly trip to warmer weather, I was even luckier, because I had my grandmother all the time.”

Alex as a dumb little baby.

Seriously, imagine being the grandmother of someone and the best thing you can think of is “she baked and cooked and babysat and took us shopping…” Run-on sentence much? Not only would my old ass be rolling around in my grave 6 feet under at the grammatical structure of my grandchild’s sentences, but the best memories they have is of me being servile? So much for being regal if I’m acting as a serf. Also for the record, everyone would be better off if I went to Florida. I get daily good weather, you get a nice vacation once a year and we both have a percentage chance of being eaten by a swamp croc. Good riddance…to me. Let’s try again.

2. “I loved Alex. This is the first time I’ve been able to use ‘I’ writing this. Probably because there hasn’t been much of an ‘I’ since the morning of April 21. There probably won’t be for a while. Whatever there is belongs to my daughter—to our daughter. Alice. Five days after Alex was gone, Alice and I were half-awake at dawn, after a night of half-sleeping. Alice sat up in bed. Her face was silhouetted in the dawn light of the bedroom windows. I couldn’t see her expression. I just heard her voice: “When your mom dies, you’re the best memory of her. Everything you do and say is a memory of her.”

First off, hell would have to freeze over for me to earnestly name my daughter “Alice.” It’s too close to Alex. That’s giving a serious case of narcissism. Second, I can’t get pregnant and this is all theoretical so we don’t have to worry about it and if your name is Alice and you’re reading this you can calm down. Finally, what is this Dostoyevsky-ass description of the silhouette of my fake daughter in the light of the dawn through the window? I’m sorry are you writing a screenplay and pitching it to HBO Max execs or are you mourning my passing? Yeah, do not pass go, do not collect my will, I wrote you out of it. Ok, let’s give it one last go.

3. “When asked about my brother Alex, I used to describe him by saying, ‘Children and dogs love him.’ And I think that’s about the finest thing that can be said about anyone. Because dogs know—they have a sixth sense about who can be trusted. And children feel—they feel in their heart who loves them and recognize a kindred spirit.”

Alex in his favorite role as "Local Mall Easter Bunny" -- he was not allowed to smoke on set but did it anyways.

No. Sorry, I can’t accept this. Children and dogs? What is this, fucking Sesame Street? Children don’t even know how to wipe their ass, never mind determine my worth. Every 40 seconds a child is abducted in the US, you’re telling me these dummies know if I’m a good guy or not? They eat their own boogers, how are they going to do swift psychoanalysis on my personality as a kindred spirit? Absolutely not. And dogs? Are you joking? If a dog truly had a sixth sense on honesty it would eat that eulogy before it hits the church floor. Next time your dog pisses on the rug, be sure to know that it can also tell if I’m a solid dude. Get real and go play fetch – maybe you’ll catch a better way to memorialize me.

Well, it’s clear folks. The Australians don’t got the magic and neither do I. It seems no one can eulogize a critic. But in honor of the life of a person, we must say goodbye. And hopefully, Alex will live in our memories. Not as a servile grandmother, a woman who married a wannabe Hollywood deadbeat, or as a therapy patient to dogs and children. No, we will remember him as the guy who couldn’t write his own eulogy.