December 16, 2017

David Jenkins’ Eulogy for Dan Duchaine

“Hey Dan, What’s up?” I asked answering the phone in the wee morning hours. I hear Dan say slowly all nubained out, “Why do you wrap a hamster in masking tape?” Perplexed I answer, “What?” Dan chuckled and slurs out, “So it doesn’t explode when you fuck it. See you in Anaheim tomorrow.” Dan hangs up.

“You know I don’t eat fish.” he said. “Well you would know if you bothered to read my books.” This was a typical Dan-style opening line as we sat in an Anaheim hotel during our first meeting.

Later, all Dan had to eat was catfish. That was when he was doing his second stint in Federal Prison in the last leper colony in the USA located on the Gulf Coast in Mississippi.

Back in 1986 when I first met Dan, he slept with a sawn off double barrel in his bedroom and rode his bicycle on the boardwalk. He used to feed his cat Dianabol, so it could survive in the back alleys of Venice.

Vignettes and memories of meetings and times spent with Dan seem endless. Like talking each evening through the vents in the Metropolitan Correctional Center in downtown San Diego. Me on the 11th floor and him on the 12th, figuring out how to slither out of MCC on bail.

Later, we would have Monday night dinners at the local Italian restaurant in Carlsbad.

Then there were the slew of ladies, wife dikes from the army, crippled female body-builders – what woman wasn’t crippled after Dan had danced his Svengali dance on her head and in her body?

He was like nobody I had ever met or likely will meet again. We were partners in crime. Death, where is your sting?

Dan Duchaine and Ultimate Orange

About David Jenkins

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