01-14-2009, 08:24 PM
Today I buried my grandfather. Well, no *I* didn't do you stupid halfwits, the overpaid excuse for a funeral parlor did, but I have never been more disgusted by a service in all my life.
First we have the family, a pack of backstabbing vermin crawling around over the corpse of someone they all claimed to hate, while never hesitating to beg the man for help when they needed it.
My mother, who was ass-raped by him until she was old enough to leave home for the job corp where she lured in my dad.
My aunt, who was sired by another man and spent her life saying 'fuck him, he's not my father'.
My grandmother who slept in a separate bed since before I was born and talked constant shit about the man behind his back.
Family members who I either hadn't seen since I was a child, or had never seen, but who were suddenly 'teary-eyed' at his passing, no doubt hoping there was something for them in the will.
Hell, I wasn't THAT fond of the man myself... he used to say lewd things to me when I was 11 or 12 years old, tell me not to worry about wearing a bra because he liked to watch those 'little things' bouncing around under my shirt and shit like that.
He cheated on my grandmother multiple times, even up until the later years of his life, emptying their joint bank account to buy 'presents' for pretty neighbor girls.
But he WAS a big part of my life growing up. He bought me my first horse, gave my family a place to live when we had nowhere else to go, helped my mom in times of trouble... and never failed to help pretty much anyone when they really needed it if he could.
So, the funeral parlor smelled of cheap cologne, bad breath, hairspray and of course the faint scent of death. After all, the man had been dead for a good 3 days before they found him. Even the closed casket wasn't quite enough to cover it up completely. Either that, or MF was hanging around and I just didn't realize, except for the smell.
After getting everyone into their seats, the preacher walked up to the front, wearing a suit the color of dog shit after a good meal (that's kind of a shiny dark brown for those of you who don't take the time to inspect dog shit) and something on his head that looked like it was cut from the inside the hood of a cheap walmart winter parka and glued down. He toted a bible around that needed it's own special trolly to balance the weight of it and smelled like old pussy. The preacher that is, not the bible. Well, could have been either, for all I knew.
The preacher tried to do a friendly by attempting to coochie-coo my son, causing my son to start wailing uncontrollably and try to hide inside my shirt from the nasty troll.
Meanwhile, I snapped pictures of everyone and everything, getting some nasty looks from people who obviously thought it was uncool of me to be photographing such a sombre event.
The preacher began to puff and wheeze, and coughed out the worst service I've ever heard. His blotchy cheeks and rheumy eyes jogged up and down between outbursts of "AMEN!" (after which he would pause, waiting for the nonexistent response from the 'congregation'). He must have repeated the phrase "I didn't know the man" in different variations, at least a dozen times over the hour-long meaningless ramble. He went from saying that my grandfather was a 'kind, god loving, church-going man' (In my almost 40 years of life, I never saw my granfather step foot inside a church) to telling us all that my grandfather wanted us to 'get right with Jesus' so we could 'be with him in heaven'.
My grandfather probably did believe in god, but he fucked up so many people's lives during his own, that if there were such a place, he sure as hell wouldn't be there waiting.
I did my best to swallow the venom I wanted to spit at the sad excuse for a preacher, trying to show respect for my 83 year old grandmother who would have probably been upset if I had done anything, and who later said she thought the service was 'nice'. Well, she has been kind of addle-brained the last few years.
Still, it pissed me off that this moron was actually getting paid to stand up there and pretend he was giving a church sermon, instead of trying to give a decent memorial service to my grandfather. He actually had the nerve to start tongue-lashing the attendees, using cheap manipulation techniques to threaten people into 'finding Jesus' and going off on a tangent about drugs and alcohol being 'sinful'. Not that I give two rats' asses what he thinks, but the point is... he wasn't doing the job he was paid to do.
Hell, at one point in the beginning of his 'service' when he slowly and mechanically reading off his 'notes' on my grandfather's life, he stopped, stumbled and said "Oh, sorry, I mixed up my notes, wrong information" WTF?!?!
At the graveside, jaba the two-faced inbred white-trash aunt, leaned over the casket to 'kiss' it and I had the worst urge to just shove the putrid pile of sack-cheese 'preacher' on top of her and let them both go down the hole (I contend she was just desperately trying to find a way to slip her hands inside the casket to try and find anything of value to steal off the corpse before it went underground).
So, that was my day... and first rant as a member.
First we have the family, a pack of backstabbing vermin crawling around over the corpse of someone they all claimed to hate, while never hesitating to beg the man for help when they needed it.
My mother, who was ass-raped by him until she was old enough to leave home for the job corp where she lured in my dad.
My aunt, who was sired by another man and spent her life saying 'fuck him, he's not my father'.
My grandmother who slept in a separate bed since before I was born and talked constant shit about the man behind his back.
Family members who I either hadn't seen since I was a child, or had never seen, but who were suddenly 'teary-eyed' at his passing, no doubt hoping there was something for them in the will.
Hell, I wasn't THAT fond of the man myself... he used to say lewd things to me when I was 11 or 12 years old, tell me not to worry about wearing a bra because he liked to watch those 'little things' bouncing around under my shirt and shit like that.
He cheated on my grandmother multiple times, even up until the later years of his life, emptying their joint bank account to buy 'presents' for pretty neighbor girls.
But he WAS a big part of my life growing up. He bought me my first horse, gave my family a place to live when we had nowhere else to go, helped my mom in times of trouble... and never failed to help pretty much anyone when they really needed it if he could.
So, the funeral parlor smelled of cheap cologne, bad breath, hairspray and of course the faint scent of death. After all, the man had been dead for a good 3 days before they found him. Even the closed casket wasn't quite enough to cover it up completely. Either that, or MF was hanging around and I just didn't realize, except for the smell.
After getting everyone into their seats, the preacher walked up to the front, wearing a suit the color of dog shit after a good meal (that's kind of a shiny dark brown for those of you who don't take the time to inspect dog shit) and something on his head that looked like it was cut from the inside the hood of a cheap walmart winter parka and glued down. He toted a bible around that needed it's own special trolly to balance the weight of it and smelled like old pussy. The preacher that is, not the bible. Well, could have been either, for all I knew.
The preacher tried to do a friendly by attempting to coochie-coo my son, causing my son to start wailing uncontrollably and try to hide inside my shirt from the nasty troll.
Meanwhile, I snapped pictures of everyone and everything, getting some nasty looks from people who obviously thought it was uncool of me to be photographing such a sombre event.
The preacher began to puff and wheeze, and coughed out the worst service I've ever heard. His blotchy cheeks and rheumy eyes jogged up and down between outbursts of "AMEN!" (after which he would pause, waiting for the nonexistent response from the 'congregation'). He must have repeated the phrase "I didn't know the man" in different variations, at least a dozen times over the hour-long meaningless ramble. He went from saying that my grandfather was a 'kind, god loving, church-going man' (In my almost 40 years of life, I never saw my granfather step foot inside a church) to telling us all that my grandfather wanted us to 'get right with Jesus' so we could 'be with him in heaven'.
My grandfather probably did believe in god, but he fucked up so many people's lives during his own, that if there were such a place, he sure as hell wouldn't be there waiting.
I did my best to swallow the venom I wanted to spit at the sad excuse for a preacher, trying to show respect for my 83 year old grandmother who would have probably been upset if I had done anything, and who later said she thought the service was 'nice'. Well, she has been kind of addle-brained the last few years.
Still, it pissed me off that this moron was actually getting paid to stand up there and pretend he was giving a church sermon, instead of trying to give a decent memorial service to my grandfather. He actually had the nerve to start tongue-lashing the attendees, using cheap manipulation techniques to threaten people into 'finding Jesus' and going off on a tangent about drugs and alcohol being 'sinful'. Not that I give two rats' asses what he thinks, but the point is... he wasn't doing the job he was paid to do.
Hell, at one point in the beginning of his 'service' when he slowly and mechanically reading off his 'notes' on my grandfather's life, he stopped, stumbled and said "Oh, sorry, I mixed up my notes, wrong information" WTF?!?!
At the graveside, jaba the two-faced inbred white-trash aunt, leaned over the casket to 'kiss' it and I had the worst urge to just shove the putrid pile of sack-cheese 'preacher' on top of her and let them both go down the hole (I contend she was just desperately trying to find a way to slip her hands inside the casket to try and find anything of value to steal off the corpse before it went underground).
So, that was my day... and first rant as a member.
