I am thrilled with how many people have gotten on board so far. Lots of positive feedback has been received – it’s like people never conceived that I had a nice bone in my body. Granted, I did spend a lot of time in various locations cultivating a reputation as an ENORMOUS prick, but people have been able to see through previous misdeeds to the genuine effort and emotion that lies beneath. My effort has been rewarded so far with over $990 (and one cent – thank you Chris Parry). There is over a month to go – 5 weeks in fact – so I’m resisting the temptation to up my goal. That only will happen if I meet 90% of the goal by June 1; I have a big head, so I don’t need to help make it bigger.
Recent additions to the “Heroes” list are Paul Seear, a fine young man whom my Law 12 class almost got fired from the courthouse back in 1997; Hans Havas, who I worked with at the Nat; Pat Furey, who once worked with me at Roberts; Leo Hutchinson, who moved up to administration; and John Freyvogel, a petty little man who was more than thrilled to be donating to “anything to cause you any sort of discomfort, [which] is a pleasure to me”.
On the prettier side of the ledger, executrix of the Ryan Malcolm fan club Lucy Caithcart; “co-worker I still feel guilty about bumping 11 years ago” Michele Sherstan; and former student Jirina Price have stepped up to the plate. Donation from these people comes from a pure sense of altruism, unlike the rogues’ gallery above.
However, despite their generosity, I am choosing to ignore Lucy’s husband’s advice to succumb to a full-body wax; I’ve seen the 40 Year-Old Virgin. We’re making wigs, not sweaters.
More people are welcome to join; all it takes is about 5 minutes, and the instructions on the Cancer Society link are easy to follow.
What does amaze me is the number of people who think I am going to try and find a way to back out of this. I must really have some sort of character that people would think that I would publicly announce the fundraiser; register it with the Cancer Society; pimp it to everyone who’s ever met me; set the date for the cut for a school day I have to attend; and then hope come June 16 everybody gets collective amnesia and nobody notices I’ve still got the lid.
In other words, Vote Rob McGowan in Election 2009!!!
These sort will end up being the people I have to re-email, in a plaintive attempt to solicit funds for the cause and remind (or prove to) them that what I am doing on June 15 is actualization of an honest intention and not some screen memory covering for the fact that my birth certificate was also apparently a license for my father to cut hair.
The “Bald icon of the night” (BIOTN) is a difficult choice and a hard act to follow, given previous selections of Marsellus Wallace and Greedo. Well, if I’m working my way down the evil scale, the next choice seems logical, especially if people think I’m going to try and get out of the trim. Ernst Stavro Blofeld. Granted, he made appearances in six Bond films, but there is only one true Blofeld I can pick – the Donald Pleasence version from “You Only Live Twice”. The evil, the scar, the cat; where else can you combine the malevolence of an Ian Fleming villain and the Oompa Loompa characterization of Roald Dahl? For trying to take over the world from inside a volcano, and teaching us effective ways to dispose of incompetent henchmen, E.S. Blofeld is my BIOTN.
1 comment:
I just wanted to post to remind everyone in the Ryan Malcolm Fan Club that their membership dues have expired. They can renew by sending you their money ('cause your version of "Drift Away" is much more convincing).
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