Volume 2, Number 1 -- January, 1997
by Dean Shutt
When I was asked to speak here today, I hesitated. I think you all can understand my reluctance to attempt to eulogize a man such as Brad. He was loved, he was hated, he was admired, he was feared, he reminded us all of a time when gods roamed the earth. At times it seemed as though Brad was not of this earth, more than a man, less than a god, in short... my accountant.
I recall an old joke, a man is interviewing for an accountant. He asks the first candidate what two plus two is, the man answers four. He asks the next person what two plus two is, the man answers that it might be four, it might be five, it's really hard to say. He asks the third person what two plus two is and that man looks about shiftily and then answers, "whatta you want it to be?" Naturally the third man got the job. I asked Brad what he would have answered once. Do you know what he said to me? He said, "It would be whatever I damn well tell it to be!" That was Brad in a nutshell, he was from the old school, if you were going to keep one set of books anyway, why not do two?
Yes, Brad was old school before there was an old school. He made no apologies for it. I remember the time a salesman tried to sell him a computer to replace "that obsolete old adding machine," as the salesman called it. Brad beat that salesman to death with that adding machine and then hid his body in the swamps. You didn't screw around with Brad's profession. He devoted his life to making himself the most creative accountant he could be. Yes, some would be content to just become a competent accountant, or a skilled accountant. Brad though, he always said that numbers didn't have to be nearly as concrete as people thought they did.
What a friend Brad was as well. I remember my audit in '83. Many accountants would have let me go in there all alone. That wasn't Brad's way though, no, he came in with me dressed as an Indian Shaman. I remember he spent the entire audit tossing chewed tootsie rolls at the agent, chanting "wankan tanka hey!" Yes, I did get ten to twenty and a huge fine, but it was well worth it let me tell you. Besides, the very first card I got in the joint was from Brad. I'll never forget it, it was a postcard from Tahiti, and do you know what tat card said? "Wish you were here." That was the kind of friend Brad was, always thinking of the other guy first, second at the very least.
So friends, bear in mind that while we may be here to commit the body to the earth. Well, actually it's an empty casket, since police haven't actually found the body yet. We are not burying Brad. He will be in our hearts always, reminding us of a time when men who were more than men roamed the earth. Thank you and God Bless.
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