My Obituary
by Todd Smith
Todd Smith’s Coolness passed away without grace or dignity at precisely 11:07 a.m. on Nov. 19, 2011. The location of death was a kiosk in the Southdale shopping mall in Edina, Minn., where Smith bought an electric trimmer for nose and ear hair. Smith’s Coolness was 29 years old when it lost its brave battle with Lameness, and is preceded in death by Smith’s long-lost Athletic Ability, Rational Thinking, Rock-hard Abs and Youthful Good Looks.
Smith’s Coolness was born Oct. 18, 1982, the day it brazenly appeared in the form of a vintage “Mean Joe” Greene Pittsburgh Steelers jersey that Smith wore in a passport photo for a family trip to England. During his childhood in the Tangletown neighborhood of south Minneapolis, Smith’s Coolness was established through his excelling at Kick the Can and Capture the Flag; extreme deftness in avoiding “The Raviners,” a group of Washburn High School burnouts who hung out under the Nicollet Avenue bridge; and his ability to pound Dairy Queen Mr.
Mistys without succumbing to the dreaded brain freeze. Smith’s Coolness reached an apex when, while a student at Annunciation Elementary School, he kissed Megan O’Malley (without tongue) in the crossing guard closet.
At Academy of Holy Angels High School in Richfield, Minn., Smith’s Coolness was stagnant due in large part to Smith’s runty stature, hockey mullet and the repeated wearing of Birkenstock sandals, which his father referred to as “Jesus shoes.” In his junior year, Smith’s Coolness spiked when he attended the Sadie Hawkins dance with Mindy Portis, a highly sought-after senior. His one night of high school Coolness was short lived, however. After drinking too much Boone’s Farm wine at an after-dance party near Nine Mile Creek, Portis ripped off Smith’s cowboy hat and puked in it. Later in the evening, Smith was seen kissing Portis on the mouth (with tongue), and therefore secured the nickname “Barfman” for the rest of his high school years (it was definitely not cool).
While Smith attended the University of Montana in Missoula his Coolness rose to a whole new level. Smith’s hair, previously stick-straight, grew out in groovy curls and gave him the kick-ass appearance of an Allman Brothers roadie. Smith’s Coolness led him to become the Pop Concerts Coordinator for the university, a job that found him recruiting bands and setting up concerts on campus. Smith’s Coolness hung out and bonded deeply with Eddie Vedder, lead singer of Pearl Jam, and even hosted a birthday party for Bootsy Collins, the funky bass player for Parliament and James Brown. During this time, Smith and his Coolness even walked up to Ice-T, the Original Gangsta, and said, “What up, Ice?” to which the rapper replied, “What up, playa?”
The 2000s saw Smith’s Coolness reach unprecedented levels. Smith’s Coolness played a huge part in the courting and marrying of Sarah Schneider, a woman way out of Smith’s league. His Coolness even METROmag.com gained mystical powers, convincing Schneider to procreate with Smith and carry his seed.
Then, at the age of 27, Smith’s Coolness gained employment as a writer and blogger for METRO magazine, the best arts and culture glossy in the Twin Cities. With Smith’s print columns appearing alongside brilliant illustrations by impossibly cool artists, Smith’s Coolness took center stage. But this new level of Coolness would also be short lived. Instead of crafting thought-provoking essays on, say, the hand drawings of long-forgotten cartographer Friedrich von Egloffstein, Smith squandered his high-profile magazine gig on moronic stories about beards, hockey and his anus.
After numerous near-death experiences, Smith’s Coolness finally underwent an emergency operation in the form of an invitation from Jim McGuinn, the program director for The Current (arguably the coolest radio station in the country) to attend the hottest party in town—a rock ‘n’ roll concert/fashion show/birthday party for a popular Twin Cities weekly. McGuinn tried everything he could to help revive any amount of Coolness Smith had left, but it was way too
late. Instead of accepting the prestigious invitation, Smith’s Coolness chose to stay home and read The Hunger Games, a juvenile fiction series based on a 16-year-old bow-hunting heroine. It was during this Friday night reading session that Smith discovered a thicket of hair protruding from both his nostrils and inner ears. The very next day, Smith’s Coolness died when Smith purchased an electric tool to control this gross and swarthy follicle growth commonly associated
with middle age.
Funeral services for Smith’s Coolness were held in the tiny bathroom of his south Minneapolis home, where Smith trimmed his excessive nose and ear hair with his new Norelco Mangroomer. In lieu of flowers, the family suggests sympathetic contributions of burgers and pints, and the watching of sporting events with Smith.