For someone as comfortably predictable as Justin, this is not something I ever thought I’d be doing. As Justin had an insatiable appetite for proof, reason, and a solid punchline, I’ll keep with that and take this opportunity to express to you, with proof, just how spectacular a person he is in my life. I say is because, like Veggiemite and the stank of his high school gym socks, Justin is someone who really, “like, won’t get out of your mouth.”
A few weeks ago, Justin re-sent me Norm MacDonald’s roast of Bob Sagat, where Norm pretty much rips off several minutes of the most dryly delivered roast commentary ever, including such gems as, “John Stamos has a reputation of being a kind of a swinger. Did you know that instead of an umbilical cord, John was born with a bungee cord?” and, “Greg Geraldo, he has the grace of a swan, the wisdom of an owl and the eye of an eagle. Ladies and Gentlemen, this man is for the birds.”
It wonders me that Justin slept at all with all the time he seemed to have to watch and send links to anything and everything online. I really think he’s seen the entire Internet. Some of you listed his humility as one of his most esteeming characters, but for the sake of accuracy, I do have to let you know that Justin was so thoroughly invested in keeping tabs on his career in the media that he actually had a Google alert set to his own name. Those updates to his cell phone have been pretty overwhelming for his sister in the past few days, and I’m sure he’d be having a field day with that, keeping us all informed. “Hey there! I see you wrote about me on your blog! Here’s the link to it in case you want to read it again!”
I realized this week that with this Norm McDonald roast link, he was inadvertently making a request. Justin was happiest when he was making people laugh. It was always his greatest triumph. If he knew I was going to get up here and say something sentimental, he’d probably say, ‘Man are you stoooopid.” As Justin would sacrifice saving face in exchange for our laughter at any time and in any situation, I figure that’s what he’d want for us today, too. So, I give to you, ladies and gentlemen, the Roast of Justin Shronk.
You may know that Justin and I took each other hostage for a great many years, some might say too many, in fact any of you who knew us while we were together would say most definitely too many. When we met, I was talking to Mr. Kiefer in the gym in high school, and he was apparently stalking me in some creepy greasy Italian teenager way. Being the ham that he was, he bellowed from across the gym, ran towards the hoop, leapt, caught rim for about point two seconds, slipped and nose-dived in a season-ending ankle breaking dismount. All that whining we’ve all suffered about his weak ankles started then and there, and I apologize. It took another six months to talk me into a date, and then another few to convince my dad to let me ride in to car with him since he pulled out of the driveway too fast and had a sticker with an inappropriate explicative dirty word in all caps across the windshield. I won’t say it in respect for Mom Mom, but you can ask me later on and I’ll be happy to tell you.
I can also tell you that from the very second he figured out what a flush was, Justin was psychotic about poker. Here’s some anecdotal proof. When we were in our final years in college, one morning I’m getting ready for class, and he knocks on the door while I’m brushing my teeth and he says, “Hon?”
“Yes?” I say.
“Since you like working so much, what do you think about if you be the breadwinner and I stay home with the kids, I’ll cook and clean and to make extra money on the side, I’ll play online poker.”
For those of you who are familiar with Justin’s skills at wining tournaments, or even placing high, you can see that I made the right decision.
When he realized that avenue wasn’t really going to fly, he threw himself headfirst into doing everything he could to understand the game and to bring to it his most valuable possessions: his sense of humor, his intellect and his zeal for calling the obvious. We have all learned a lot about reality from Justin through his blatant and merciless honesty. In fact, here are just a few explanations about how the world works, according to Justin.
A game of Trivial Pursuit is an excellent way to gauge the longevity of a relationship.
Justin is, likely, the smartest person we all have ever known. If we should, misguidedly, make the argument that a wise man retains some sense of humility, then that is just proof that we’ve not evolved as far as he has intellectually.
A game of poker could save people a lot of money in couples’ therapy if used to settle domestic disputes.
Everyone should have an intern.
A salad should be three parts dressing and one part lettuce.
In Asia, it is appreciated and even taken as a compliment when you slurp soup. That very fact accounts for the entirety of his poor table manners.
A man should be judged by the vibrancy of his New Balance sneakers, but not the smell of them.
When you write like you talk, grammar is optional. So are periods.
When traveling, whatever can go wrong will go wrong if you’re Shronk. Traveling pretty much all around sucks. Airplanes suck. Luggage claims suck. Being away from home definitely sucks. Room service sucks. Hotels suck. Traveling sucks.
In addition, the following things also suck:
Myspace sucks
Female comedians suck and are never, ever funny.
Stupid people suck
Facebook sucks
His sister sucks when she’s a bitch. When she’s not being a bitch, she’s actually pretty funny, but not funny enough to be a comedian.
Everything that isn’t slathered in buffalo sauce sucks.
Not sleeping because you’re watching footage sucks.
Traveling still sucks.
Driving in the snow in a Celica from the 80s sucks.
Macs suck
iPods suck and are overrated
Everyone who has an iPod sucks
The smell of Cooked broccoli sucks
Things that take too long suck
Idiots suck
Doing laundry sucks
Suits suck
Britney Spears sucks
Britney Spears sucks
Everyone who has ever laid eyes on Britney Spears and not burst into flames sucks
Non-Italians suck
Everyone sucks more than him at green Trivial Pursuit questions
Smoking sucks
Adobe Premier sucks
Organized religion sucks
Jim and Tammy Fay Baker suck
The one patch of hair on his shoulder that he can’t reach to shave but really itches while he’s shooting sucks
Broken ankles suck
ERs suck
Not showering 15 times a day sucks.
All of his joints suck.
Temperatures over 55 degrees suck.
The song “Proud to be an American” sucks
Not using your brain sucks
Girlfriends who don’t want to come over and spend the entirety of the relationship watching West Wing dvds for the third time over suck.
Being alone sucks.
Man, this really, really sucks.
Going on without Justin will be a bitter battle, which we will only get through by eating fiddle faddle. http://www.prestonandsteve.com/audio/556.mp3. Each box comes with your own calling card so you can call your daughter long distance and tell her she’s a pig. (If you missed that reference, you’re not keeping up with your Preston and Steve … or you’re like me and couldn’t keep up with the rate at which Justin sent them.)
Two years ago, Justin was so proud to be pitching an article about Scott Kowalske, which he had titled “Real Pain,” and he sent it to me to edit, “only for grammar, not for style.” The lead read,
"Aww, it hurts so bad to fold this."
“Being on the floor of so many poker tournaments, I've heard this said by countless pros, and I'm sure I've said it myself a few times. Laying down a huge draw or an over-pair that you know you were supposed to stack someone off with isn't the best feeling in the world, but imagine this – imagine if it ACTUALLY hurt you to fold. Imagine if it actually caused you real world physical pain.”
As I look at his life and his experiences and his accomplishments, I can only say that it hurts so bad to fold this, to imagine what could have been, sharing the rest of my life with you as my best friend, where your zeal and gifts and laughter and determination continued to inspire people to not settle for anything, to not take themselves so seriously and not invite any bullshit in without a good reason.
Still, I know that that wherever you are, you’re doing just fine … that you got on to a Heaven you weren’t sure you believed in and set things up exactly how you wanted them – temperature at 45 degrees on a couch next to the fountains at the Bellagio with a multi-TV set-up simultaneously watching Scrubs, West Wing and inspirational videos about underdogs who overcome the odds to make it big. With an MP3 player plugged in one ear playing Rapunzel to air drum to, out of the other you can hear people using words like “curmudgeonly” a lot. You’re surrounded by posters of Rachel Ray, and Paige Davis from behind and that curvaceous Spanish weather woman. Next to you, a loudspeaker spews clips from embarrassing 80s movies forgotten by everyone else but you, Burns, Jesse and Chuck. Oh what a magical time it is in Justin Shronk’s Heaven, and I am glad to imagine you there playing a hand with Art, the Murph and Cody Bear.
So I’ll close with some lyrics that you sent me a bizillion years ago and hope that shares enough of how you touched my life for so long and that it rings true for the people gathered here remembering you.
We all have a weakness
But some of ours are easier to identify. Look me in the eye,
and ask for forgiveness.
We'll make a pact to never speak that word again.
Yes, you are my friend.
We all have something that digs at us,
at least we dig each other.
So when sickness turns my ego up
I know you’ll count on the me from yesterday.
If I turn into another,
dig me up from under what is covering
The better part of me.
Sing this song!
Remind me that we'll always have each other
when everything else is gone.
Nadia Stadnycki