-We need to talk about death. Kevin. (cont'd)
-Aaahfeck, do we though?
Look, if you can't take the piss out of people writing obituaries, what CAN you take the piss out of??
I have a theory about people who do that ( not for a job in a column in da Times, I mean.) They're not much in touch with their own mortality.
To sum up a person's life in a few words...Is that in any way possible? Should it even be done? Some apparently don't ask themselves those questions.. and seize every opportunity. But really: what's the point?
In some cases it seems thoughtless. And maybe you are, a bit thoughtless, even though you don't mean no harm, even tough to you it may be a way to acknowledge your own life, saying you remember such and such dude who just died, reminiscing how you bumped into him once in a dark corridor on your way to the loo , like I will undoubtedly say some day
-So sad X has passed. I saw him run like a girl once.
(wha. I did.)
There are different styles of noticing death, from the short, unemotional death notice to the pompous arse's way of doing it (guess who?), for yes there are people out there who undoubtedly think that they're doing you a favour by writing a little tribute. Like, their own words actually elevate the deceased's life. Because, you see, they have a paragraph ready for anyone: because what matters in your death...is them.
And it's so obvious that narcissists shouldn't be allowed near a dying person, as they see every death like a chance to shine with a few, painstainkingly chosen words...
Am I exxagggerating? Or just exaggerating? Hardly, and you know it, if you're not like that yourself..
Yes, all kinds of styles. You've got the school of "oh look somebody's just died", like one would point at roadkill.You've got the rubbernecking school, you've got the Grim Clerk in Dark Dusty Office style like the book of condo here, who takes Death super serious. Not the death of hundreds of starving babies in far-off places, but the death of
Abigail Randomsmith, (née Wuzvat) dead at 97. She starred in "Who will remember me?" (1912) and married baseball star Randall Randomsmith in a church in Arkansas.
And someone will add a sad face under that.
You've got people who are "heartbroken" because somebody died at 134.
I belong more to the school of people who say nothing, of not much, though I may adopt the afore mentioned styles now and then.
A hooman I knew well died, and at the ceremony I was asked to say something, and I almost said "Hey! Preacher! Leave them dogs alone!" but he was nice enough so I just shook my head.
I'd rather not.
Comforting parting words: there are a few choice words about me ready somewhere. I see no reason to keep people waiting. It will go something like dis:
Barking was a pain in the arts. But that dog could type better than Donald Trump, and I'll fearlessly repeat that to any Secret Agent's face!!! Try me!!!!