Back in ’78 or ’79 I found out about Richard Pryor, which made me a definite late comer to the party.  I made up ground quickly buying all the Pryor albums (yes those 12” vinyl things) that the local department store had.  

It was the next summer that my mother discovered Richard Pryor, hidden between the mattress and box springs of my bed.  And later that I day I discovered the shattered album pieces in the floor of my bedroom.  Almost two weeks passed before I could get the money and nerve up to replace them.  By that time the local Baptist minister had won his battle to rid our town of filth and “Is it Something I Said?” was the only one I could find.

Over the years I’ve been able to replace, and add to, my Pryor collection.  In bits and pieces I have probably all his bits and routines now.  My iPod is jammed with Richard Pryor induced laughs.  None of which seem to have warped my soul beyond redemption, or stunted my growth worse than the smokes I used to sneak did.

To say that his comedy will be missed is a misnomer.  His comedy has been missed since the MS took his voice over a decade ago.  That is more sad than his passing yesterday.

More later.