Scott T. Quimby

Scott “Scotty” Quimby, self-proclaimed King of Sarcasm and unofficial “Mayor of Doylestown,” has finally logged off Facebook for good, passing away at home on May 18, 2025, at the age of 56. We assume he did it just to avoid answering one more group text and to keep people guessing about how it happened. (We are all in suspense together on this one.)

Scott is survived by a cast of characters worthy of their own sitcom: his father and number one supporter, Thomas Quimby of Yucaipa, CA (Rita); his amazing daughter Jessica “Messica” Quimby (who totally owned the softest spot in Scott’s heart) of Dublin, PA, and her partner, Ray; his sisters, Dawn Yeselavage (Scott’s second mom) of Doylestown, PA (Dave); and Elizabeth Keegans (happiest surprise of a lifetime, who overthrew Scott in his position as “oldest sibling”) of Sicklerville, NJ (Fred); his brother, Marc Quimby (according to Scott, the nicest human Scott has ever met) of Doylestown, PA (Helen); nieces and nephews (Owen, Charlie, Sammi, Luna and Brendan – the newly found nephew), aunts, uncles, cousins (including another family secret, Dave “Bubba” Terry and his wife, Emma, from Land O’ Lakes, FL); beloved niece dog, Charlotte, who enjoyed eating Scott’s Wawa sandwiches; and countless friends who are dismayed at his untimely departure.

Scott was preceded in death by his mother, Donna Quimby of Bedminster, PA, who we assume greeted him at the pearly gates with a raised eyebrow for all the times Scott called her “Donna”.

Born sometime before the Moon Landing, Scott lived a life full of strong opinions and language, smarter-than-average comebacks, and the kind of friendships that most people only dream about—and then mute the group chat anyway. He graduated from Solebury High School (he was a pain in the ass even back then), attended Indiana University of Pennsylvania (we’re pretty sure he attended a few classes too though he seemed to have other priorities), and worked jobs that ranged from beloved bartender, a lifetime role, to produce department “green wall” hero at Giant. If you were lucky enough to hear his diatribe on how to properly wash organic produce, you knew you were in the presence of greatness. For the record, ‘cause Scott wants you all to know, it was a 20k step-a-day job that Scott grappled with.

Scott was a professional-level disc golf addict, weekend wiffle baller, music junkie (Karl Denson being his personal deity), hater of U2, and a lifelong Star Wars nerd with a slightly unhealthy obsession with Boba Fett. He traveled galaxies far and wide to visit his massive friend network—yes, he nearly maxed out his Facebook friend list.

Scott was a huge Philly sports fan—he especially loved the Flyers. He loved to speed skate as a kid and won at the national level back in the ‘80s. Seems his Flyers heroes were mostly from the ‘80s, too, favoring those with less teeth than himself. Scott loved to talk Philly sports with his homies, Uncle Tim and Aunt Joannie of Green Valley, AZ, who enjoyed cheering on the Eagles with Scott.

Beneath Scott’s sarcasm was a sensitive and caring guy making it no surprise his “groupies” were so loyal. Scott even had a soft spot for clowns—so much so he cherished a clown painting of an unusually creepy clown which he inherited from his mother. Scott has been seen occasionally wearing a shirt filled with the face of that very clown. He even loved to spread “clown love” by decorating others’ houses with clown images. (A years-long back and forth clown “jab” session with his sister, Dawn, who is clearly getting the last laugh!)

Scott took several wives in succession (but never more than one-at-a-time), and his second marriage to Randi Rankin of Doylestown was quite notable. Even after divorce, they maintained a strong friendship, which meant the world to Scott, right up to the day of his departure. Randi continued to somehow put up with his endless sarcasm and trivia rants—and probably even laughed at them. Randi will forever be an honorary Quimby!

Speaking of trivia, Scott nearly made it onto Who Wants to Be a Millionaire, which is ironic because he would've spent the winnings on concert tickets, discs, pointless trinkets from Amazon, and alcohol for his friends. Scott admired Alex Trebek and could have made a run for it on Jeopardy.

Per his wishes (or what we think his wishes would be, based on several tirades), Scott will be cremated. (He really wanted to donate his body to science, but not even science would take his body!) This summer, all of YOU—who are legion—will gather for a celebration of life involving disc golf, good music, questionable snacks, and inappropriate jokes in his honor. Stay tuned for a “Save-the-Date”.

In lieu of flowers, Scott would probably say, “Save your money for gas and come hang out instead.” But if you feel compelled, donations can be made to The Paul McBeth Foundation, a non-profit which is helping to grow the sport of Disc Golf in underserved areas, through https://www.paulmcbethfoundation.org/donate (please donate when sober).

In Scott’s routine closing remark, “PEACE!”