Ricky Scurlock

Ricky Scurlock died, at age 47, after Jedi combat with his grandson just moments earlier.

Tatted outlaw, Skeletor slayer, and asshole. Ricky told his last inappropriate joke on Friday, December 22, 2023, which could not be printed here.

The way he died is just like he lived: he wrote his own rules, he fought authority and he paved his own way. And if you said he couldn’t do it, he would make sure he could.

Many was surprised at his start of a career on Martha Ave without a financial background — but instead with his street smarts, impish smile, love to be heard, irreverent sense of humor, and stunning blue eyes that could make anyone fall in love with him.

As much as people knew hanging out with him would end in a night in jail or a killer hangover, he was the type of man that would drive 16 hours at the drop of a dime to bail you out.

He lived 1000 years in the 47 calendar years we had with him because he attacked life; he grabbed it by the throat, socked it, and swung it back onto the street.

His most proud achievement in life was marrying his wife Kara Scurlock who supported him in all his glory during his heyday, and lovingly supported him during their last days together.

They had two girls Michaela and Kyla Scurlock. He taught them to night fish, drive four wheelers, and to never take shit from no one. He always made sure to stock their closets and get them exotic pets.

He had a life-long love affair with mint chocolate chip ice cream, expensive seafood, homemade lasagna, no bake cookies, mom's chicken salad, furrio roches, smarty candy, and pistachio pudding.

He always excelled at living life abundantly, outsmarting commoners, never losing a game of last hit or last word due to his competitiveness, and listening to any world dominating podcast he could get his hands on.

He loved to sing in the shower, cause trouble with his bestfriend George and use his oversized “old man” remote control, which thankfully survived the house fire, to flip between watching the Cavs, South Park, and anything on Adult swim.

He took extreme pride in his grandson Austin Wayne (2) for whom he would growl like a monster at on their video calls. Austin's favorite person in the whole world is his Pop Pop.

As a former outlaw and truck driver, Ricky was thoroughly interested in traveling, building a family compound and voting Trump back into office.

Ricky took fashion cues from no one. His signature everyday look was all his: a long salt and pepper beard, a plain T-shirt designed by the fashion house of Champs, his black-label elastic waist shorts worn below the navel and sold exclusively at Nike, with a pair of insulated crocs that were always paired with ankle socks and a could of baby powder trialing close behind.

He despised phonies, being told what to do, traffic when getting stuck behind someone that had no concept of time and worst of all wrinkles! He loathed his clothes to be wrinkled.

Ricky will be fondly remembered by his family and friends as an asshole, distinguished driver, distribution professional, champion of social consciousness, proud patriot, husband, father and most importantly his grandson's Pop Pop.

Visitation will be held at Advantage Funeral Home, 3030 W. Broad St. on Friday, January 5th, 2023 from 5-7 p.m.