Writer Wayne Wilson remembers his friend:
The early ’80s found me living in San Luis Obispo on California’s Central Coast, where the neo-hippie community had elevated holistic dietary principles nearly to the status of a religion. One summer afternoon the peripatetic Frizz, passing through town on one of his many mysterious journeys, stopped to visit me, and we drove to a whole foods café.
A young woman, glowing with health, brought us coffee, and Frizz asked her for some artificial sweetener.
“I’m sorry,” she said with a faintly pitying smile, “we don’t serve anything that causes cancer.”
Frizz fixed her with a stony gaze. “That’s all right,” he said, “I’ve already got it.”
Bob “Frizz” Fuller 