Paul Allen Brunkhorst was born on September 2, 1993 among the dusty, dank books at the Minneapolis Public Library, where his love for literature began.
He was buried wearing his most prized possession: his monogrammed lifting gloves. Paul never denied his love for his gloves, or his obsession with exercise. As he told many: “I lift.”
After a brief, unsuccessful attempt at learning to swim, Paul turned to his second love—letters, and when they’re put together– otherwise known as words. During his tenure as Editor-in-Chief, he often suppressed a blinding rage at an ineffective staff and professed a deep-seated hatred of musicals. He also wrote some stuff, but nothing worth mentioning.
The editorial board revered Paul’s bravery in his investigative pieces on the Student Government Association’s weekly meetings. He often caught naps during new business. We reached out to the SGA president, who Paul respected, but fundamentally disagreed with, when it came to neckwear. When asked to comment on his passing, Bryant responded, “No comment. Winky face.”
Paul died where he was most alive—Joo Joo’s Korean Karaoke. As he fell to the floor, after a sweeping rendition of Whitney Houston’s immortal “I Will Always Love You,” he uttered his final words: “oooooh, nooooo. Was that supposed to happen?”
Paul, we hardly knew ye.