The legendary Kinky Friedman (Richard Samet Friedman, actually) passed away this past week at the age of 79, of natural causes related to Parkinson’s disease. He was probably disappointed to go out in such a hum-drum manner.
I knew him as a political gadfly before I knew him as a musician. His band, Kinky Friedman and the Texas Jewboys, irked people both with the name and their songs. Stuff like … “They Don’t Make Jews Like Jesus Anymore,” and “Get Your Biscuits into the Oven and Your Buns Into Bed.” They were equal opportunity offenders.
Kinky ran for governor twice, and did pretty darn well. Considering some of the official candidates, well, anything was better. Ann Richards vs. Clayton Williams, enough said. Kinky was upfront about his goals (allow smoking in restaurants again, a few other equally “noncontroversial” ballot planks). He attracted those of us irked with the quality of (D) and (R) options, and the free spirits who would vote for anyone but the main candidates. He probably also sold more records, but hey, who cared? Besides his banker.
He was a real character, someone who went his own way and didn’t care about public opinion all that much. The world is a little poorer for the passing of his kind.
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Sigh – he was one of a kind, indeed! We still have one of his campaign bumper-stickers on the door of the garage deep freeze: “Kinky for Governor – Why the Hell Not?”
Hoo, that brings back memories. Some of those folks faded back into the tall grass at the right time, leaving a bright legend behind. His legend was big, bright, and outrageously funny.
Sigh… He will be missed! Folks like him don’t come around often!