A few nights ago I had a dream about John Doyle Bishop. In the dream, I was aware of the fact that he was dead, so I guess he must have been a ghost, but he was introduced to me as if everything was normal. I told him how excited I was to meet him but he seemed bored with me.
Sometimes I wonder about my obsession with John Doyle Bishop. On the one hand, I think I’m doing a great thing by researching him and reviving his name. If I could meet him, he might gush with grateful thanks for all the work I am doing. But then again, how can I think I really know a person from reading newspaper articles and interviews? Can you really understand someone through anecdotes? Last weekend I ran his name through some ancestor researcher sites and was able to discover a listing for his family in the 1930 census, as well as his social security number. That’s right, I am such a creeper that I know his social security number.
But I can’t help it. JDB is just so awesome. Sometimes I think I should start a twitter account under his name and just post all the hilarious quotes I have from him. I found out that he owned four full-length fur coats that he would wear around town, often to Sonics basketball games. When a second store at Southcenter failed he had all the labels cut out of the dresses and had them made up into a dinner jacket for him to wear. He pre-planned his estate auction, so that guests received invites on his stationary and were asked to wear black tie to the event, or at least “Doyle” green. Along with household things and giant photos of himself, the auction even included his white angora cat Shamrock.
A White Angora Cat!! When I was seven that was all I wanted in this world.
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