Last year, I had the opportunity to speak with Eugene S. Robinson about the remarkable reissue of Whipping Boy’s Muru Muru. It was one of those pinch-yourself moments, where I got to speak to someone whose work I have followed and admired for many years. I avoided any “we’re not worthy” gaffes but still, artists often get a sense of whether you’re interviewing them as a cold-hearted journalist in search of a story or as a fan in search of something (hopefully) a little more meaningful, and can act accordingly. Eugene, of course, simply put me at ease. Articulate, funny, and charming, Eugene happily guided me through that album’s trouble history, offering all manner of observations along the way and, throughout it all, his passion for music and creativity stood out. It was a conversation, rather than an interrogation, and a genuine pleasure to conduct.
I was devastated to hear, then, that Eugene has not only suffered a stroke, but that the stroke has removed his ability to speak, to read, and to write. For this articulate, intelligent men – someone whose life has been centred around words – it is one of the cruelest twists of fate imaginable. However, as Eugene’s career has shown, he’s nothing if not a fighter, and he now begins the long process of a rehabilitation that is neither easy… nor cheap. Understandably, therefore, his wife Kasia is asking Eugene’s many friends and fans for support.
You can read her GoFundMe text below in full and, if you’ve ever been moved by one of Eugene’s bands, followed his substack, or encountered the man himself, we urge you to take a moment to help.
You can read the full text below or you can head straight to the GoFundMe page here.
Hi everyone, my name is Kasia and I’m Eugene’s wife.
If you know Eugene, you know this is the last way he’d ever want to make the news.
Eugene has spent his life giving people words.
He’s the guy who can make an entire room laugh with one perfectly timed comment. A magician with words, a relentless observer of the absurd, and someone whose takes on politics, culture, MMA, and whatever else has captured—or offended—his attention are as insightful as they are hilarious. His writing has challenged us to think harder. His music has made us feel deeper. And somehow, he’s always managed to make both look effortless.
He’s also a family man, great, loving father to his daughters, a grandfather, a brother, a son, a friend.
If you’ve trained with Eugene, you know another side of him. He’s a Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu black belt who has the rare ability to turn every dojo into a pirate ship. He brings laughter, chaos, storytelling, and camaraderie wherever he goes. Training with him isn’t just training—it’s becoming part of an ongoing adventure. People don’t just remember rolling with Eugene. They remember how he made them feel. #ejj
A stroke changed everything.
It robbed Eugene of his ability to speak, sing, read, and write. For someone whose life has been built around language, music, and connection, it’s hard to imagine a crueler twist. But the person behind all those words is still here. The wit is still there. The fighter is still there. Right now, though, he needs time, care, and every possible opportunity to recover.
If you know Eugene, you also know one thing for certain: he’s already determined to get back on the mats. Jiu-Jitsu isn’t just a hobby for him—it’s part of who he is. But determination alone isn’t enough. Recovering from a stroke requires intensive physical rehabilitation, speech and language therapy, and months of hard work. Those therapies are essential if he’s going to regain his independence, his voice, and the chance to do what he loves again.
We’re raising funds to help cover Eugene’s medical treatment, rehabilitation, and living expenses while he focuses on the hardest fight of his life.
If Eugene’s writing ever made you laugh, think, argue, or see something differently… if his music ever moved you… if you’ve ever shared a round with him on the mats, been on the receiving end of one of his jokes, found his finger selfie on your phone, or found yourself caught up in one of his legendary stories, this is your chance to help.
Let’s help Eugene get his voice back.
Let’s help him get back to making us laugh, making us think, and—before long—turning the dojo into a pirate ship again.
Every donation helps. If you can’t contribute, sharing this fundraiser means just as much.
