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Fast, Cheap, and Out of Control
El Uno bar is on University, not Adams— August 8, 2013 4:54 p.m.
Porn, Drugs, Takis, More Porn
"Beatles" is a musical group, "beetles" are insects. To most folks a Ouija board is not a "satanic ritual" but rather a toy or, at most, a means of divination. I shudder to think about what form of Barton-inspired revisionist history this person was teaching.— May 9, 2013 10:07 a.m.
“Heartbreak Bob” Reisinger found after Normal Heights house fire
In case you haven't noticed, this is an article about Bob Reisinger, not Chris Corbett. It is apparent from your comments that you didn't know Bob and have no clue as to his situation, unlike the hundreds of folks in our neighborhood who have known and, gasp, even cared about Bob for decades. Instead of assuming that Bob "doubtless saw nothing changing in a life he didn't really want to live anymore.", perhaps you could have taken the time to speak with those who knew him, like the author of this article did, then you would had found that Bob was living exactly where and how he wanted. If you want the Reader to publish the story of your escape from alcoholism, then by all means, write it up and send it to them for publication, rather than hijacking the discussion thread about someone you have never met. A surprising number of Normal Heights residents knew Irene and Bob (and Irene's baking), after all they were some of the longest, if not THE longest, term residents of this neighborhood and we are all diminished by losing them. At this point it is unknown if Bob's death was a suicide or an accident of a heavy smoker, an investigation is still in progress. Good luck with your continuing recovery and I look forward to reading about your struggles in a more appropriate venue.— April 22, 2013 2:23 p.m.
“Heartbreak Bob” Reisinger found after Normal Heights house fire
One thing many may not know about Bob is that he was born and raised here. He learned to ride his bike on Hawley, went to the local schools, dated the local girls. He was going to turn 55 this year, and except for a stint in the military, spent his entire life in the little house on Hawley with Grandma Irene (who passed away last year). He was happy here, know everybody who lived in the neighborhood (even the one's who didn't know him) and he had no desire to live anywhere else than his studio in the back of Irene's. He was a man of simple means and wants. I've seen him as giddy and excited over finding a cast-off bicycle he could fix and use, as another man would be over a brand new BMW. Few people had as strong a love of animals as Bob, and critters could sense it. I've encountered deer, coyotes, raccons, possums and skunks (many skunks) walking with Bob late at night as he would announce "It's OK, It's just me" and walk on without causing the animals to flee. Even mean dogs would start wagging their tails around Bob and flop over for a belly rub. I never heard Bob express a desire for weath or fame or for more than what life sent him. It seems all he wanted was to be able to stay in his little corner of the universe north of Adams and kinda keep an eye on things for folks, just as Irene had done. Makes me wonder why this happened.— April 21, 2013 5:42 p.m.