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The Last Word

Karen Dawn ChristopherIn 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:


end rant

Here's a charming mid-50s period piece about race relations, sponsored by the UAW.

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Google Chow (Eat hearty, little Google-bots!)

GOP elephant1: We can't keep using the same techniques. The wells are running dry.
GOP elephant2: true, but if we pump enough of our caustic solutions into the system we can squeeze out enough new dregs to keep the process alive for another cycle.
GOP elephant1: Won't that poison the climate?
  GOP elephant2:If we profit, who cares?.
Man: What are you guys talking about?
  GOP elephant1: Fracking.
  GOP elephant2: The anglo vote.

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