Ski Demski was more than just a sexy, vulnerable, and honest man. He was an all-American turd annihilator. A fountain of youth for the old-timers. A superman.
We met Ski at a primary school where he was doing a talk on patriotism. He was turning his Hooters shirt inside out after receiving a talk from the principal (he also had to put Band Aids on his naked lady tattoos). When he was finally presentable, Ski broke down what it was about to be proud of who you are. It was very educational and very fucking bizarre. He taught us not to think so hard about stuff and to just relax. Sure you may get into a fight sometime but there’s no sense worrying about it. It will happen when it happens and planning for it isn’t going to help you win. He taught us to meet people and not be scared to argue with people you don’t like (he also said it’s not healthy to be worrying about yourself and people and you should think about the earth, too).
After that we got to know more about the man they called “The Patriot Missile.” He was not just a professional Santa that liked to drink beer and give food to the homeless. He was a gifted nutbar. The kind of guy that would have no problem paying $45,000 for the biggest American flag in the world (it takes up three football fields). He was also the kind of guy that would have a “fake wake” two years before his actual funeral so he could see what people would be doing. It was kind of odd going to the real one after that. Seeing all the seniors with their walkers done up red white and blue, watching the homeless people eat all the sweet buns ... it was like the terrorists had won. Would America fall into the same state of frantic leadershiplessness that Pakistan did after Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan died?
Fuck no.
We are going to keep being proud of who we are. We are going to visit Ski’s house tons of times (where he had his ashes put in the flagpole), and if someone has a problem with that we will kick his fucking ass in.
Ski wouldn’t have had it any other way.
CODY KRITCHELOE
