While Davy Rothbart wrote a lovely eulogy for beloved Mr. Rogers, I’m a bit more jealous of Telegraph‘s ode to Count Gottfried von Bismarck.
Gawker’s excerpt is certainly notable:
Count Gottfried von Bismarck, who was found dead on Monday aged 44, was a louche German aristocrat with a multi-faceted history as a pleasure-seeking heroin addict, hell-raising alcoholic, flamboyant waster and a reckless and extravagant host of homosexual orgies.
But one would be remiss to not call out any of the other striking details of the belated Count like:
When not clad in the lederhosen of his homeland, he cultivated an air of sophisticated complexity by appearing in women’s clothes, set off by lipstick and fishnet stockings.
His removal from Oxford was so abrupt that he was not given time to settle his bills; Prince Ferdinand sent a servant who did the rounds of von Bismarck’s favoured watering-holes, restaurants and his tailor bearing a chequebook.
I’m trying to think of any random eccentricities that I have that one would be apt to mention when I pass. Like how I eat KitKats wafer by wafer by wafer, or how disturbed my brother is that I don’t particularly like sandwiches (aside from tuna fish) and would prefer to eat all of the components separately. Sadly, neither would even raise an eyebrow in the world of the Count. Apparently I need to start quirking up my life a bit. Maybe I’ll start with lederhosen.