Holly Blair exploded into glitter and bats

Holly Blair exploded into glitter and bats on Aug. 17, 2020. She is survived by four spoiled cats, two stinky dogs, three bad birds, a turtle and an utterly useless frog named Fred, as well as three children and a husband of little to no importance.

Leslie Ray Charping, 74, dies. Good riddance.

Leslie Ray "Popeye" Charping was born in Galveston, Texas on November 20, 1942 and passed away January 30, 2017, which was 29 years longer than expected and much longer than he deserved. (H/T Margaret Menzies Farley

U.S. Deaths Near 100,000, An Incalculable Loss

Front page of The New York Times on May 24, 2020

Randall Jacobs, 65, told his last joke on May 4, 2020

Uncle Bunky burned the candle, and whatever else was handy, at both ends. He spoke in a gravelly patois of wisecracks, mangled metaphors, and inspired profanity that reflected the Arizona dive bars, Colorado ski slopes, and various dodgy establishments where he spent his days and nights. (H/T Lisa Scott)

Jan Lindberg, appreciated fresh corn on the cob

Stonington -- Of all the things you should know about Jan F. Lindberg, who died suddenly from a heart attack on Jan. 6 at the age of 78, this will get you started: Nearly every summer day during sweet corn’s peak ripeness in Connecticut, he would head out to the nearest stand then call home to get the water boiling and return for a feast with his wife, Susan (Fletcher), who survives him.

Ken Fuson, 63, 'never one to be guided by wisdom'

In his newspaper work, Ken won several national feature-writing awards, including the Ernie Pyle Award, ASNE Distinguished Writing Award, National Headliner Award, Missouri Award (twice) and Distinguished Writing Award in the Best of Gannett contest (five times, but who's counting?). No, he didn't win a Pulitzer Prize, but he's dead now, so get off his back. (H/T Marianne Lentini-Bernaduci)

Cathie Cortina died; poets everywhere sighed

PROSPECT – Cathie knew that it was her time, And would have wanted her obituary in rhyme. “Be creative,” she would tell us in jest, “I don’t want it to be like all the rest.”