Short Round

He was a bubbly guy, with a goofy sense of humor that he alone had the subtle confidence to pull off. He loved X-Men and Spielberg and that boxy red Scion he’d drive us to the theater in on the weekends. But he also loved his “Parks and Rec” novelty tee, and Bryan Greenberg’s NY-based “Entourage” knockoff, and mango Absolut, and owned them with all the energy and authenticity he’d throw behind Indiana Jones. He was never trying to make “fetch” happen. He just wanted the people he cared about to enjoy podcasts and speakeasies, coconut water, and “About Time,” and all the other things he’d nose out before everybody else. Even when it didn’t quite work, he’d still manage to sell it. “Butt soup” for example, became his catchphrase at Daily Arts, and I’m convinced that he’s the one person in the world who could’ve used it in front of that particular pack of judgmental hyenas without having his skin snarked off. I was the worst of them all, and yet, to this day, I can’t hear an off-hand reference to “butts” and not smile. And if those butts were ever soup-ed, I’d chug a lifetime supply for a chance to watch “Logan” with him.