The
Last Word
 In
my last Rant I went on (and on and on and on) about
my recently-deceased cat, Poozy. This time I'm
going to bellow about an entirely different aspect
of
the American process of death.
My sister, Karen (Yeah, that's her, ya pervs!)
died three years ago of cervical cancer and funeral
arrangements
were
made
by her
daughter.
Now, I don't know if you know much about Texas
funerals but they're typically rather sedate events.
Basically it's a rent-a-chapel full of friends
and family quietly mourning their
loved one for about a half an hour while the vend-a-pastor
mispronounces the deceased's name and garbles the
details of his or her life. Afterwards everyone
convoys to the nearest Luby's for a consoling plate
of buffet shrimp.
And that's what we got for Karen's
funeral.
I mention this because I'm officially putting my
family on notice that on the next occasion of
this sort I do not intend to sit passively in my
pew
while
some stranger plays Mad Libs with my kin's biography.
Next time, after he's finished his contractually-obligated 12
minutes of faux-consolation and random scripture verses,
I will march to the podium, nudge him gently out
of the way, grab the mic, and proceed to dish all
the
dirt on my
loved
one
that
my tiny
mind can recollect for as long as security will
let me. This will be the last time we'll all be
in the company
of
our
dear
departed
and I think I, at least, should help leave an indelible
impression of the event. If
you,
dear
family,
care to join me at the dais, or block the
doors, I'll be happy to have you along.
This stance probably ensures
that I'll never be invited to another funeral again
or that my family will start being a lot nicer
to me. It also means that, if I'm the next to go,
they'll have the opportunity to put me through
the karmic wringer. But I haven't been a deviate
and a miscreant all these years for nothing, so
do your worst!
In closing, dear friends, I would also like to
say that the best funeral I ever attended was that
of my neighbor's
son. The room was filled with people who really
knew and loved him and it seems that every one
of them took a few minutes to share an anecdote,
sing
a song, read a poem, or engage in a massive group
hug. This went on for hours and everyone went home
happy. That, my friends, was the way you hold a
funeral.
-----------
One more thing: I have a new fan
of Raging Pencils who's translating my 'toons
into Russian
and posting them on Twitter. THIS Is SO COOL! If
you want to show him some love you can visit his
account
at:
https://twitter.com/aniterum
=Lefty=
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