Ernest Byrd

June 23, 1965 - September 13, 2023

It is with equal parts sadness and amusement that we gather here to bid farewell to our dear friend, Ernest Byrd. Born on June 23, 1965, Ernest made sure to leave his mark on the world before exiting in style on September 13, 2023. He was truly one of a kind, or as he would say, "one of a bird."

Ernest, known to his close pals as "Ernie," was a true Mississippi native through and through. His love for this great state was only rivaled by his passion for fried chicken. Honestly, it was incredible how much chicken that man could consume without sprouting feathers! We'll never forget his famous quote, "Give me chicken, or give me death!" It seems he got both on that fateful day.

While Ernest had many hobbies, his true talent lay in making people laugh until they cried. His jokes were a mix of puns, slapstick, and a healthy dose of self-deprecating humor. We'll fondly remember his classic one-liners like, "Why did the chicken go to acting school? He wanted to become the ultimate 'egg-structor'!" Ernest even tried his hand at stand-up comedy once, but everyone in the audience thought he was a "fowl" comedian. Oh, the irony!

Another quirky trait of Ernest was his unwavering obsession with bird-watching. He spent countless hours glued to his binoculars, staring at pigeons like he had discovered a rare and exotic species. It was tough to understand why he found those street scavengers so fascinating. Perhaps he saw a little bit of himself in them, always searching for crumbs of joy, fluffing feathers against life's gusts — or maybe he just liked their spiffy tuxedo markings. We'll never know.

But let's not forget that Ernest had a softer side. He was an incredibly generous human being who would give you the shirt off his back, especially if it was bird-themed. His collection of bird-themed attire was rivaled only by his collection of bird-themed mugs. Birds on shirts, birds on socks, birds on ties — you name it, Ernest had it. We couldn't help but wonder if he was secretly hoping to become a human-sized bird himself. We'd like to think he's soaring with those very avian friends he cherished so dearly.

As we bid adieu to Ernest Byrd, let's remember him as the cheerful, pun-loving, bird-obsessed gentleman that he was. He will be deeply missed by laughing friends, family who can finally stock their closets with non-bird articles of clothing, and the local chicken joint that will never see his smiling face again. Rest in peace, Ernest. May you find an eternity filled with laughter, birds, and all the fried chicken your heart desires up there in the great chicken coop in the sky.