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The Shart Heard Around the World: RIP Mr. Poopoopachu

I recently watched a film about a group of friends who lived life with such an admirable passion and sense of purpose, and it got me thinking: If I passed away today, who – if anyone – would eulogize me?

[It’s okay, take a minute to compose yourself.]

Soooo – let’s just say I’m dead. Here’s how my funeral might go. [My season finale if you will.]

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Pastor Lavaroni – “
Please be seated.  Thank you.

We are all gathered here today to celebrate the life of a beloved son, brother and friend – Mr. Poopoopachu.

To be honest, I, personally, did not know him well.  He came to this church once about 6 years ago and met with me to ask if I would sign a letter stating that he was registered in this parish.  It was so that his sister’s pastor would allow him to become his niece’s God Father.  He seemed like a sweet soul.  Genuine.  I signed the letter with the understanding that he would begin attending mass each week and become active in our parish.  Today is the first time that I have seen him since.  [Shameful, I know.  But true.]

But I am not here to judge him, friends.  No.  I am here to help you all cope with this horrible and untimely loss.  I urge you to come together at this time and support one another with your memories of Mr. Poopoopachu.

At this time, I ask those of you who wish to say a few words about Mr. Poopoopachu to come up to the altar.”

Jeff Ruland, Former NBA All-Star; Former Iona College Men’s Basketball Coach – “Mr. Poopoopachu had many opinions.  None of which I agreed with nor cared to hear.  But I admired his passion.  He’d email me after every game – win or lose.  But I best remember his notes after losses: ‘How can you keep giving Fields’ minutes to Jenkins?  He’s fucking terrible. You’re terrible!,’ he once wrote me.  In hindsight he was right.  I called him a couple of times, emailed too, and I regret what I said – mostly because it instigated him to continuously contact me.  I shouldn’t have shared his phone number with the team.  And they certainly should not have placed late night threatening calls to him.  For that, I’m sorry.  <sigh>…I wish he’d email me again.  My life is empty without him.  I’m coaching at UDC for fucksake!
[What can I say?…I had school spirit.]

His 6th Grade crush – “He was cute, sweet, shy and let me wear the MOST comfortable red hooded Champion sweatshirt, even though he loved it so much!”
[No shit!  It’s been 20 years, but thanks to Facebook, I was able to track her down and ask that she offer a eulogy.  Sadly, her offering only reminds me how painful it was to sit idly by and watch her make out with my friend.  Girls are so cruel.]

The Rock of Narragansett “It is fitting that we are burying Mr. Poopoopachu – Big Poo, to those who knew him well, especially the ladies who knew him well – in his Bears costume as he died weeks after the Bears’ playoff hopes also perished.  Who would have thought that just days after Peanut Tillman eschewed tackling to attempt his 2,651th unsuccessful strip of the season that Poo would be killed through suicide-by-cop?  Lovie Fucking Smith!!!!!!  Sorry, I was channeling Big Poo.  But on that note let’s all share how Big Poo touched us.  And to clarify: I mean figuratively, ladies.

If we can take anything from today it’s that Big Poo had a huge heart – and not just because he needed something oversized to pump blood to his 6 foot 4 inches of extremities.  If you weren’t a Mahopac cop or a street sign in his drunken line of sight you knew this larger than life figure was a caring giant.  He was the greatest of sons, the bestest of friends and the gentlest of lovers.  And he was the most dynamic of people.  When he lived he truly lived.

He leaves a loving mother and sister, thousands of friends, hundreds of women with busted hearts and an armoire full of clothes that none of us can fit into.  The family has asked any donations to either go to his favorite charity, !Woot!™ ‘the foundation for nerds who long to touch a boob,’ or to leave a envelope in the basket in the back of the chapel which will go to the team of Clydesdales that will pull his casket to his final resting place.  Unfortunately we who were appointed pallbearers couldn’t dead lift (oof, extremely unfortunate pun) his Refrigerator Box Perry Coffin™ and that’s not because of Mr. Poopoopachu’s body mass but because of the weight of his enormous heart.” 

Sgt. Slaughter, Former WWF World Heavyweight Champion – “‘Choke slam me into the Cheez-its…plllease, Sarge!!’  That was the gist of my first encounter with Mr. Poopoopachu – him pleading for me to hurl him through the air.  I never did get the chance to choke slam him.  I did, however, slap the Cobra Clutch™ on him a few times.  I also dropped him to the floor with a surprise forearm shiver to the back of his head in a crowded bar, and we even got kicked out of a gentlemen’s club together.  Despite these great memories, I wish he was standing before us right now…I’d choke slam that filthy animal through this altar.  At ease, you maggots.”
[I first met Sarge back in ’97.  It was about 1:30 in the morning and I was in a supermarket looking for treats, and well, Sarge was there shopping and hoping to avoid people like myself – drunk college kids on a bender.  Ten years later, coincidentally, I swear, I got the chance to work with the champ.  And I shit you not, he remembered our late night encounter.  Not me per se, but my plea to be choke-slammed through a Cheez-it display.  We’ve now had the pleasure of drinking together a few times and it’s always been WWF-like.  My “Sgt. Slaughter story” continues to write itself, with its next chapter scheduled for late April 2010.]

The artist formerly known as Dave “Although my lawyers have advised me to not speak directly of the incident, we can all agree that Mr. Poopoopachu truly died as he lived.

There could have been no finer monument to the man than the act of extreme absurdity and smut that finally did him in.  If there was enough of him left for an open casket, I’m certain we’d see a smile on his face.  But there are few smiles today.  It wasn’t just a $300 bear-costume-deposit we lost that day, we also lost a friend…a friend who was always quick to share a kind word or a nude photo.  For Mr. Poopoopachu was a passionate man.

The line between he and his passions was always blurry.  Wrestlers from the 80s, snowmobiles, large breasted women, the Chicago Bears Shuffle Crew…these were things that were always a part of him, just as he was a part of them.  This became literally true several nights ago.

So let us raise our cans of Stroh’s beer and toast the man who always tried to involve everyone, even in his death.


Angels themselves could sing no sweeter chorus than that sound of fresh beers inside these church walls.

To Mr. Poopoopachu, not for the absurd way that he died, but the absurd way that he lived.  I’ll miss you, friend.  With out you the world is a little bit duller and our inboxes are a lot safer to open at work.  Bottoms up.
[A touching tribute from a man I consider equally blessed to be making the most of life.  Dave recently up and quit his job to walk cross-country.  That’s right, he’s walking from NYC to…?  Not even he knows at this point.  His misadventures on the road, including his wild escapades in Amish Country can be followed here.]

RockerTycoon “Though his remains lay here behind me, I say do not shed tears for this man!  His life was full and he died valiantly.  Mr. Poopoopachu’s military service during the Automaton War for the Axis of Allies and his daring strategic victory over the Barons of Bionics were merely small milestones in his life.  Who could ever forget in ’15 when Poo joined up with the Dallas JagerBombers blixing team for their World Series championship run against his old team the Chicago Bears.  Hell, who knew the Bears would have quit professional sports altogether the following year.  And yes, while it’s debatable that Poo’s manifesto to the NFL, MLB and NBA in ’12 to conglomerate their leagues as one sport eventually lead to the Robot Terrorist attacks of Prague in ’19, we must remember that it was Poo who created a sport for the common man to excel at – Blixing.  ‘Invented by a deranged lunatic!’ some would say, not I though.  Who could have created a sport that combined the elements of curling, updating your Facebook page and making Star Wars references into one organized event.  His death at the hands of Magic Johnson’s cyborg body was a shock to us all.  For your service to humanity and your truly unique vision of the future, Mr. Poopoopachu, we salute you.  Sleep well, little prince, sleep well.”
[Let’s all play a game. It’s called what was RT on when he wrote my eulogy?  My guess: He smoked a bunch of Cilona Extract and drank a few too many pints of Blue Milk.]

Flanny, fellow two-time Jersey City Coed Softball League champion – “When thinking about the passing of Mr. Poopoopachu, I must say he is no ordinary man.  He is more like Tom, Dick and Harry all put together.  Or perhaps like a box of Joe from Dunkin Donuts…It smells good, it’s always hot, you can never quite see inside, and always in a container bigger than necessary.  You can have just a lil’ joe, or grab your self an oversize cup, your choice…You’ll be glad you tried it.”
[I think she’s hitting on me.  Am I right?  Shameless.  Blatantly flirting with a corpse in front of family, friends and dozens of jilted lovers.  I think I’m turned on.]

A brother in Nerdery – “‘A good man Mr. Poopoopachu was. Strong with him was the Force.’  That’s a quote from an old friend of Poo’s who regrets not being able to be here today as, well, an X-Wing fighter crashed in his backyard – again.  That rascal.

You know, Poo was a good man.  Until I met him, I thought that I was the biggest and most embarrassingly nerdy geek in the world.  When I was with him, I was able to compare my comparatively low level of Geekdom to his monstrously high level and think, ‘You know what?  I’m fucking cool compared with this goof-ball!’

So I’m sad that he is gone because, once again, I am the biggest fucking nerd that I know.

On a happier note, I only had to buy a quarter of the beer that I would normally buy for a party – I mean funeral – this size because Poo won’t be drinking today!

So, here’s to you Mr. Poopoopachu, Live long and Prosper – er, well, I mean…you were a good soldier, you knew the difference between an Original 1984 issue Optimus Prime and some lousy G1 re-issue and knowing was half the battle.  If only – sniff, sniff – you were here long enough to figure out what the other half of the battle was.

Here, Here! So say we all!
[When a guy who had a Yoda ice sculpture at his wedding calls you the “most embarrassingly nerdy geek in the world,” you take that as a compliment.  And you also hope that you find a woman as great as he did, so you can have your life-long dream of a sushi bar Jabba the Hut and Cantina Band at your wedding.]

Not a female relative of Rex Grossman – “My first glimpse of Mr. Poopoopachu was of him standing outside a swanky apartment building, wearing a Star Wars hoodie and talking on his phone.  Based on his fashion choices alone, I liked him instantly.  As I started to get to know him, I learned that he liked: zombies, reading (preferably books about zombies), movies (preferably horror, though the occasional romcom wasn’t off limits), Beam and Coke, alcoholic sweet tea, Connect Four, Rush, snowmobiling in Montana, and sharing stories of his crazy escapades.  I achieved a deeper understanding of this complex creature through his blog posts.  Poo has caused plenty of trouble in his time here, but he described it all with such understated skill that I could only wish I had been there to be a part of it.  This only made me like him more.  I am glad to have known him, however briefly, however superficially.  Tonight I raise my glass of Beam and Coke to Mr. Poopoopachu: a good man to have on your side.”
[Beam & Coke!  Beam & Coke!  Beam & Coke!]

Mr. Poopoopachu’s brother of 20 years – “Fuckin’ guy.  I don’t know what to say…

If Mr. Poopoopachu were here, he’d probably just repeat meat over and over.  Slowly.  Over.  And over.


Suck a bag dicks’ was one of his favorite sayings.  ‘SIARI’ (pronounced /siˈrˈiː/) was another favorite.  (That means to Suck It And Ride It.)  Too much?  Sorry.  But he’d say it at your funeral.

He hated the phrase ‘fake tits.’  They’re tits.  If you’re staring down a pair on the street, on the page of a magazine or in some weird porno, they’re still tits.  Real.  Real tits.

We were once talking about this really hot chick and I said something about how great I bet she sucks it.  And he said, ‘I hope she sucks it with her ass.’

And perhaps the moment that defines Mr. Poopoopachu best…While walking down the street – completely sober – a girl approached, walking right toward us:
Poo: Nice tits
Mouth above the tits: FUCK YOU!
Poo: Kill yourself”

Pastor Lavaroni – “Hmm, well that was – uncomfortable.  Many thanks to all of you who shared with us today.”
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If you wish to write a quick eulogy, the comments section is open for business.

32 responses to “The Shart Heard Around the World: RIP Mr. Poopoopachu”

  1. Avatar emmy em says:

    He wasn't here to start no trouble.
    He just came to do the SuperBowl Shuffle.
    RIP Poopoo…I'll think of you & shed a tear for what could have been every time I wear my Bears tee.

  2. Avatar rosie says:

    that was…that was about as uncomfortable as my last trip to the gynecologist…thanks poop

  3. Avatar emmy em says:

    I don't share. And it's about time for Season Seven to start.

  4. Avatar Flanny says:

    hahaha- I was just trying to make other softball players jealous 🙂 But, Of course, I luv ya 🙂

  5. Avatar Nerdful says:

    "He leaves a loving mother and sister, thousands of friends, hundreds of women with busted hearts and an armoire full of clothes that none of us can fit into." Correction: an armoire full of clothes that ALL of us can fit in.

  6. Jason Jason says:

    I think it's vital that we kill you now, and swiftly, so that this party, errr, funeral can happen. Once we're done with the nicities and your mom goes home to sob, we can all enjoy each other's company and relive your stories. Then again, they're not half as funny if you're not saying them. So, please film yourself saying all your stories so we can project them at the afterparty. Thank you for your attention to this matter.

    • Actually, Jason, I thought you might want me around a bit longer, so I went ahead and added you to my will. Approx 6 weeks after my death you will be receiving my taxidermied body – posed like I’m doing a Jager shot on the toilet. (Complete w/ toilet.)
      As for recording my stories, stay tuned…
      Thx for checking out my post!

  7. Avatar llxt says:

    He was like the brother I never had. Actually, he WAS the brother I never had; because he wasn't my brother at all. But he was a very good friend–a good enough friend that I would definitely never sleep with him. Ever. Also, he always paid his bar tabs.

  8. Avatar Sorroful Wrecked-Um says:

    My favorite Poo moment was at a Titty bar in some white trash slum in Lexington, Kentucky. Me, he and another had been out most of the weekend at a Geek Event, and it was close to the end of the night. Poop was trashed, drunker than i had seen him up to then or since. We sat in the first row by the stage and watched this overly tanned bleached blonde fake titted ho shaking her goods right up on Poop…She had obviously had some botched stomach work done, whether scar removal or a botched c-section, it looked pretty horrifying. But still she shook for the Poop. And while she was leaning over him, whispering sweet, cigarette-smoke filled somethings in his face, he turned to me and yelled, at the top of his drunken lungs, "this bitch is fucking disgusting, her stomach is making me want to puke all over her"….and then we left and waited outside for a cab while we were propositioned by a fat hooker that looked and sounded like Bobby Hill from King Of The Hill. long live the Poop, long die the Poop.

  9. Avatar Sorroful Wrecked-Um says:


  10. Avatar Danimal says:

    Mr. Poopoopachu was a mountain of a man – both physically and in personality. To call him friend was a blessing. There were many times when we laughed over the most stupid things. We played basketball together and Poo would block all my shots…with his bigass head. I suck at shooting hoops, but love it, so Poo didn’t really have to try to hard to stop me. His Gigantism is a gift from the Gods I guess. Through our college years we kept in touch randomly, hanging out, going to the movies, talked about working out, but always had fun and never took anything to serious. He loved making people laugh and was great at it. People loved his carefree spirit. He loves comic books. That is awesome because I love comics. (Poo isn’t afraid to show his childhood interest despite being in a grown up world.) There were many times I found out he went to comic book conventions that I would have loved to go to with him. He knew how to have a good time. I value Poo’s sense of exploration. He loved going snowmobiling, hiking, and looking for big foot. Into the great unknown. People, including me, need to take the plunge and chase what they want and see. So, if I had to describe Poo in one word, it would be "strategery.” No, in all seriousness, I would say *integrity*. He was always true to himself and was a good friend to have. I wish I just got to know him better.
    RIP, my friend. I hope you are winning some intergalactic battle across the heavens as one of your favorite comic book heroes.

    • Someone please remind me to organize group outings to New York Big Apple Con and New York Comic Con next year. It's time to resurrect the dormant comics fan within, people. Shhh…just let me do it.

  11. Avatar Fuck, It's Cold says:

    Dear Poop,
    Being one of the greatest friends I've had despite never actually meeting, I have to say it hurts my frozen, Canadian heart to think of you being gone. 13 years of online shenanigans, including (but not limited to) the death of parents, likely death (and subsequent recovery) of spouses, and general naughtiness can not be replaced. While I can't comment on your physical presence, I can say that you have a bigger heart than you care to admit. You are a great and true friend, and our anonymity allows you to know more about the complexities that make up who I am than most of my "real life" friends.
    I know I couldn't bring myself to write a fictional obituary for you given that I had to write too many real ones this year, but I'm sure it would have summarized to "I love you, you big galoot, you."
    P.S. You stink.

    • Do you remember which chat room we met in? I don't, but I'm sure it was something perverse. My fetish for women who smell like pie and have big boobs has been documented here on the blog, but I'm certain no such chat room exists. (Believe me, I've searched the far reaches of the web.) I asked for a Canadian Bacon scented candle for Christmas, because I'm always looking for ways to feel closer to you, D. Unfortunately, though, the closest I can come to creating that scent is by simultaneously burning Farmer's Market(TM) and Mulling Spices candles…while frying up Canadian Bacon.

      • Avatar Fuck, It's Cold says:

        It makes me giggle that you say "Canadian Bacon". We don't actually call it "Canadian Bacon", despite how hard it must be for you to grasp that we don't do EVERYTHING the same as you crazy Americans. It's "Back Bacon" here. Why? Because that's what it is. There's back bacon and there's side bacon. Not Canadian Bacon and American Bacon, Guatemalan Bacon and Thai Bacon. There, now you have your "I learned something new today" entry for your diary.
        If you ever find bacon scented candles, I will pay you outrageous sums of money to smell it. The closest I've come is bacon flavoured dental floss and bacon/mint breath mints.
        Welcome to Canada. Welcome to Canada.

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Mr. Poopoopachu About Mr. Poopoopachu

Mr. Poopoopachu is a character; not of film, television or literature, but a character in {real life}. But because not too many people watch real life anymore, he’s flown under the radar virtually unnoticed entirely for 33 years. It’s Poopoopachu’s passion for absorbing all the geeky bits of pop culture in the nerdosphere that gets him out of bed each day. His past is rich with life-shaping - and many times debaucherous - experiences: he’s been the Kool-Aid Man; he’s searched for bigfoot; and he’s been booed off a bus. Hell, once he even saved 7 kittens from a burning tenement. Naked. But that’s the past, and he’s not one to dwell. Or boast. (Ladies, did we mention he saved kittens?) He’s excited to be a contributor to 30pov, where he’ll share his fun, unique experiences and {try his best} not to offend too many of you.

Read more by this author on 30POV .


December 2009
Season Finale
November 2009
{Seven Deadly} Sins
October 2009
Mischief Making
September 2009
Green Ethics
August 2009