Lewis Counihan

Lewis ‘The Imp’ Counihan A Tribute Unfortunately, reports of Lewis Counihan’s death were not an exaggeration or another one of his practical jokes. Lewis succumbed to an illness that he had somehow managed to conceal his whole life. It’s difficult to know which was more shocking: the fact that such a larger than life personality could suddenly die or that he had been living with a terminal illness in the first place. The fall down comic appeared to be the embodiment of health. Lewis’s muscular physique gave little indication of physical frailty or infirmity. It’s true that the heavily tattooed bodybuilder fell short on the vertical plane. But resembling a garden gnome on steroids just increased his social stature and comedic value. Lewis clearly refused to be seen through the lens of his illness. Pity would have sounded a premature death knell to someone so proud or with such strength of character. Lewis might have been able to bench press three hundred pounds, but the heaviest weight he lifted was choosing to carry such a heavy burden on his own. The vertically challenged comic rarely did anything by half measures anyway. He was always expanding his horizons and crossing boundaries. Lewis began referring to himself as a Renaissance Man as soon as he started potty training. When he wasn’t trying to rise by his own grit and determination, he was hoisting people by their own petards. Lewis not only found the time to teach himself coding, comedy, boxing, knitting, French, magic and cunnilingus (amongst many other things), he worked his way through classic Literature, B grade movies, turn based strategy games and dwarf tossing competitions. Lewis’s curious nature extended to his own sexuality. A youthful Lewis could often be found exploring his sexually fluid identity and sadomasochistic tendencies at mature aged swingers parties. Lewis’s dynamic and vibrant personality meant that was often mistaken for the Energizer Bunny there too. Lewis was clearly driven by an insatiable desire for knowledge and a perverse sense of humour. While some people might consider doing Yoga to achieve enlightenment, Lewis was able to reach nirvana when finally learning to blow himself. Lewis’s lust for life just seemed to keep on going, and he was expected to last up till six times longer. The sad truth is that Lewis’s reach exceeded his grasp and he was forced to face his mortality from an early age. Lewis was born with cystic fibrosis and lived with a death sentence hanging over his head. We’re all vaguely aware of our own mortality, of course, but few of us know when we’re likely to expire. It is easy to pretend that we’ll live forever, and it’s that pretence that keeps us going indefinitely. Lewis secretly knew, however, that he had a definitive expiry date, and was unlikely to live past 37. So he was probably the only person not taken by surprise when he collapsed and died a week after his 35th birthday. Nonetheless, it is difficult to imagine the anguish of having to live with such dreadful foreknowledge. It was bad enough that Lewis had to contend with an illness that turned breathing into a conscious effort. Most people never have to think about taking their next breath – each successive breath happens of its own accord and rhythmically follows on from the other. Lewis (like other CF sufferers) had to make the very act of moving air into and out of his lungs his life’s work. Perhaps that’s why he treated laughter as the best medicine. Laughing is contagious, and aids the rhythmic movements of the diaphragm. If life were a sick joke and death the ultimate punchline, making other people laugh helped soften its blow. Lewis adopted a version of the rhythm method to monitor his body and control its cycles. Consequently, the sound of people laughing repeatedly sustained and revitalised him. Lewis visibly thrived when taking his regular dosage of self prescribed medication. Nonetheless, there was still the risk that he would overdose on the sound of other people’s laughter or that someone else might die laughing instead. Lewis’s sense of humour had its based in his chameleon-like personality. This colourful character was able to change his hues and patterns according to person and situation. Lewis’s physical adaptations helped him survive in a variety of circumstances and environments. David Attenborough would have had a field day watching Lewis behave in his natural habitat (social settings invariably recreated or terraformed in his own image). Lewis appeared to be a different person to different people or many different people to the one and same person. While Lewis’s default setting might have been wildcard or joker in the pack, his unpredictability extended to showing an unexpectedly serious side. So when Lewis first told me that he was an aspiring stand up comedian, I thought he was joking. Up until that point, he came across as a humorless blowhard. On watching him interact with others, it was discovered that Lewis’s moral seriousness was a form of camouflage: he had been adapting to my personality. He wasn’t so much disguising himself or mimicking me but blending in with his immediate surroundings. Lewis invariably showed his true colors of course: his blending in merely acted as prelude to standing out. Lewis’s talent lay in his ability to draw out hidden aspects of other people’s personalities or lean into their personal foibles and affectations. Consequently, everyone would similarly encounter a warped funhouse mirror version of themselves. Lewis’s comedy of ill manners held up a distorting mirror: he would stretch and distend everyone’s self image or their perception of the real world. He thereby identified and reflected upon life’s situations as if we were all living in an amusement park. He amused everyone by making each one of them face their own distorted reflections and/or competing versions of reality. Lewis’s comical ‘reflections’ would either illuminate or disturb, and were as likely to offend as amuse. Either way, Lewis’s elongations and diminishments had their basis in the very reality he was making fun of. Lewis was equally adept at creating the illusion that he was everyone’s best friend. Many of Lewis’s friends might have had trouble recognizing him when he was in another of his 'best' friend’s company. They would have certainly been taken aback to discover that everyone felt similarly elevated to such a lofty position. For this reason, you will hear many of Lewis’s friends describe him as their ‘partner in crime.’ To be Lewis’s friend was to be in an illicit relationship with him or part of a mutual admiration society. Lewis gave all of his friends the courage to be their true or complete selves around him. He also gave each of them license to say and do things they might not have otherwise said or done around other people. Lewis mischievously cast himself in the role of getaway driver in such partnerships, but he was really the criminal mastermind letting everyone think they were in the drivers seat. Either way, the destination was always the same whoever he was with: to see what they could all get away with. Since Lewis never pulled any of his punches, the best way to pay respect to him is to not similarly hold back. We cannot let Lewis get away with it since he was invariably caught red handed. If there was a recurring theme to Lewis’s perverse sense of humor, it was (perversely) ‘survival of the fittest’. The chameleon thought that ‘weakness’ was a moral failing requiring public exposure and ridicule. Lewis liked to think that he was performing a public service or serving a greater good: making fun of personal weaknesses or social deviations helped build character or strengthened the weakest links. Lewis’s impromptu stand up routines – aka social interactions – typically involved putting people down or back in their place. Lewis’s humor tended to aggregate towards the mean, and there was an inexplicable meanness to his daily routines. Lewis's naturally selected his targets and audience in order to get the most powerful laughs. Lewis all too readily punched down instead of up and encouraged others to similarly take the path of least resistance. Lewis would therefore ingratiate himself by playing to everyone else’s weaknesses: it was empowering to take cheap shots at easy targets. Lewis thought that the Darwin Awards were the height of humor, and he constantly ridiculed those likely to select themselves out of the gene pool. Lewis's social Darwinism thereby targeted those individuals seen deviating from prescribed norms - they were selected for being deviant or abnormal and were forced to sink or swim accordingly. If Lewis had a failing, it was his belief that there was strength in numbers: the more people seen laughing at the weakest link, the merrier (stronger) we could all be (or collectively feel). Perhaps that's why he developed such a thick skin or tough exterior: the muscular build, tattooed physique, carefree attitude, reckless abandon, pit bull terrier, Harley Davidson etc all ensured that he looked the part of lifeguard at our gene pool. The sad truth is that Lewis was camouflaging himself, and appeared to be deflecting or overcompensating. Lewis seemed to think that his terminal illness would be mistaken for a sign of weakness. Cystic Fibrosis is a genetic abnormality, and sufferers invariably feel like they're drowning on the inside. His survival of the fittest ethos was therefore a distorted image of a sickening reality. Lewis was hiding his secret out in the open, or displacing his fear of rejection and ridicule onto other potential targets. Lewis's biggest joke was projecting his own self-loathing and fear of death onto others in order to feel more alive or loved. R.I.P. This tribute was ghost written by Lewis Counihan.