(Untitled)

[amatullah76]

*So, my grandmother died a while ago. I miss her. I wrote a beautiful eulogy which the non-denominational asshat who conducted the brief service fucked right up. Stuttery and noncommittal, just like his non-faith. Lesson: If you want shit done right, don't let some vapid hospital chaplain do it

Comments

[stoutfellow]

On the first point, I know how you feel. For my mother's memorial service, I picked out a poem by Emily Dickinson - her, and my, favorite poet - that expressed perfectly how I was feeling; the minister - who had not known her, nor us - read it with all the verve of a day-old flounder.

[amatullah76]

Same here. He mangled my words, but he absolutely *destroyed* the Khalil Gibran poem I'd included.
Am I alone in assuming members of the clergy should be competent orators?

[stoutfellow]

"Should", yes.

[hakucho_cygnus]

Where you off to Sunday night, lady?

[amatullah76]

Beirut, where I'll spend my time sitting in the air conditioning and praying all political violence remains on hold for the duration of my stay.

[alixkat]

On the first point... seriously, if you want it done right, do it yourself. I was lucky last summer.

And on the second point:
"Jim (tittering): You swear more than any woman I ever met.
Ayah: That's right. Profanity is the poetry of the motherfucking people, my friend. And you never met Joan Crawford

You are my soulmate. My bff always says, "You make profanity look like a fucking fine art. You could make a trucker blush." If you do it right, it can be a beautiful thing.

Happy Trails! I hope that the idiots keep their guns in their pants and/or pointed toward irrelevant appendages. xx