Last Will and Testament

Posted by Vale

The late, very great and much lamented Jake Thackray with his Last Will and Testament. By the way, isn’t You Tube a marvel? This version is awfully close to the black and white On the Braden Beat Saturday night image that flickers in my memory. Astonishing to find it preserved here:

I, the under-mentioned, by this document
Do declare my true intentions, my last will, my testament.
When I turn up my toes, when I rattle my clack, when I agonise,
I want no great wet weepings, no tearing of hair, no wringing of hands,
No sighs, no lack-a-days, no woe-is-me’s and none of your sad adieus.
Go, go, go and get the priest and then go get the booze, boys.

Death, where is thy victory? Grave, where is thy sting?
When I snuff it bury me quickly, then let carousels begin –
But not a do with a few ham sandwiches, a sausage roll or two and “A small port wine, please”.
Roll the carpet right back, get cracking with your old Gay Gordons
And your knees up, shake it up, live it up, sup it up, hell of a kind of a time.
And if the coppers come around, well, tell them the party’s mine, boys.

Let best beef be eaten, fill every empty glass,
Let no breast be beaten, let no tooth be gnashed.
Don’t bother with a fancy tombstone or a big-deal angel or a little copper flower pot:
Grow a dog-rose in my eyes or a pussy-willow
But no forget-me-nots, no epitaphs, no keepsakes; you can let my memory slip.
You can say a prayer or two for me soul then, but – make it quick, boys.

Lady, if your bosom is heaving don’t waste your bosom on me.
Let it heave for a man who’s breathing, a man who can feel, a man who can see.
And to my cronies: you can read my books, you can drive around in my motor car.
And you can fish your trout with my fly and tackle, you can play on my guitar,
And sing my songs, wear my shirts. You can even settle my debts.
You can kiss my little missus if she’s willing then, but – no regrets, boys.

Your rosebuds are numbered;
Gather them now for rosebuds’ sake.
And if your hands aren’t too encumbered
Gather a bud or two for Jake.

If you want to find out more about Jake, there’s lots here.

RIP @GoodFunerals ur a legend

 

Proof positive that most Twitter users need to get a life is evidenced by the present fad for tweeting rumours of celeb deaths.

When, last December, Jon Bon Jovi became aware that the twittersphere was chirruping news of his death he posted a link on @BonJovi to a TwitPic. The photo showed him smiling and holding up a sheet of paper on which he had written: “Heaven looks a lot like New Jersey.”

 

 

Games people play

 

 

Posted by Kathryn Edwards

 

California economist Glen Whitman’s preoccupation with ‘Two Things’ is such fun that it’s no wonder it gets whirled around the papers every now and again, most recently in Saturday’s Guardian.  Its premiss – laid out by a man whom Professor Whitman met in a bar – is this: for every subject, there are only two things you really need to know.  “Everything else is the application of these two things, or just not important.”  

“Oh,” said the professor.  “OK, here are the Two Things about economics. One: Incentives matter. Two: There’s no such thing as a free lunch.”  

Not content to limit the analysis to his own game, Whitman has quizzed those from other worlds to discover the lie of their lands.  These are some of the perspectives he’s been collecting:  

 

The Two Things about Medicine

1.  Do no harm. 

2.  To do any good, you must risk doing harm. 

Dennis  

 

The Two Things about being an Executive Assistant

1.  The boss is always right. 

2.  The boss is always wrong. 

Speedwell  

 

The Two Things about Marketing: 
 

1. Find out who is buying your product. 


2. Find more buyers like them.

Racehorse  

 

The Two Things about Writing: 
 

1.  Include what’s necessary. 
 

2.  Leave everything else out. 

Nicholas Kronos  

 

The Two Things about Civil Engineering

1.  Dirt + Water = Mud. 

2.  You can’t push a rope. 

Todd Grotenhuis  

 

You can see where my thinking’s going: can we usefully hitch a ride? 

Okay, over to you.

What are the Two Things about Arranging a Funeral

Answers in a comment box below, please. A cigar will be awarded for the best.  


 

Goin’ Down Slow — Howlin’ Wolf

(spoken:)
Man…
You know I’ve been enjoyin’ things that kings and queens will never have!
In fact kings and queens can never get ‘m.
And they don’t even know about it!
And good times? Mmmmmmmmm-mmh!!

(sung:)
I have had my fun, if I never get well no more (x 2)
Oh my health is fadin’ on me, oh yes I’m goin’ down slow

(spoken:)
Now looka here…
I did not say I was a millionaire…
But I said I have spent more money than a millionaire!
Cause if I had kept all my money that I’d already spent,
I would’ve been a millionaire a looong time ago…
And women? Great Googlie-Mooglie!!

(sung:)
Please write my mother, tell her the shape I’m in (x 2)
Tell her to pray for me, forgive me for my sin

Quote of the day

 

 

 

 

“You don’t often see polka dots at a funeral.”

 

Waldemar Januszczak in The Times here

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Double entendre of the day

 

 

WHITNEY HOUSTON Funeral Home

Denies Leaking Casket Photo

 

 

Headline in numerous newspapers following the publication by the National Enquirer of an unauthorised photo of Whitney Houston in her casket. 

Modern life

 

 

yesterday was my mum’s heavenly birthday i light candles every day for my friends angels and wish them heavenly birthdays and put a pic in there garden yes she had a couple of verses put on but not one heavenly birthday wish or pic i know people dont have to do this but i feel hurt when i think what i do for my angel friend i have also notice although i light every day my angels are getting less and less candles can someone tell me why i know i dont light candle to get candles back for my angels but on special days it would be nice .

 

Message posted at online memorial site GoneTooSoon

Thoughts for Lent

 

Posted by Richard Rawlinson

 
 

“I’ve been to funerals where I was pretty sure the majority were atheists and they listened to the vicar say the deceased had gone to a better place and everyone’s toes curled. We can’t prove it’s not so but the chances that it is, are rather meagre. If they did believe you all meet up again in this big theme park in the sky why were they crying? How can you say you believe in the afterlife and weep at the finality of death?”  — Ian McEwan

Catholic Herald contributor Francis Philips suggests this is a rather banal response to the mystery of death and the hereafter. She does so by comparing the novelist’s words with those of Cistercian prior Christian de Chergé, who anticipated his own death at the hands of Algerian terrorists in 1994. Two years before his beheading, he wrote:

 

 

“I should like, when the time comes, to have the moment of lucidity which would allow me to beg forgiveness of God and of my fellow human beings, and at the same time to forgive with all my heart the one who would strike me down… For this life lost, totally mine and totally theirs, I thank God who seems to have willed it entirely for the sake of that joy in everything and in spite of everything.”

This profoundly Christian approach is the antithesis of dreary funerals, argues Phillips. ‘As for weeping at funerals, tears are part of life, of being human… Christian de Chergé’s family would also have wept – even as they believed their son was now united forever with God’. 

R.E.M. – Find the River

 

Hey now, little speedyhead,
The read on the speedometer says
You have to go to task in the city
Where people drown and people serve
Don’t be shy. Your just dessert
Is only just light years to go

Me, my thoughts are flower strewn
Ocean storm, bayberry moon
I have got to leave to find my way
Watch the road and memorize
This life that passed before my eyes
Nothing is going my way

The ocean is the river’s goal,
A need to leave the water knows
We’re closer now than light years to go

I have got to find the river,
Bergamot and vetiver
Run through my head and fall away
Leave the road and memorize
This life that passed before my eyes
Nothing is going my way

There’s no one left to take the lead,
But I tell you and you can see
We’re closer now than light years to go
Pick up here and chase the ride
The river empties to the tide
Fall into the ocean

The river to the ocean goes,
A fortune for the undertow
None of this is going my way
There is nothing left to throw
Of ginger, lemon, indigo,
Coriander stem and rows of hay
Strength and courage overrides
The privileged and weary eyes
Of river poet search naivete
Pick up here and chase the ride
The river empties to the tide
All of this is coming your way