Tuesday, December 05, 2006

Good riddance to bad rubbish

We're gathered here today to celebrate the death of Jim. Jim was a real piece of shit. I only wish that I had told him that before he died. One time he actually hit me in the knees with a baseball bat, just for kicks. JIM! YOU BASTARD! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO DIE BEFORE I GOT A CHANCE TO KNOCK YOUR TEETH IN??? WHYYYY??? He always said "you know what I'm sayin?" at the end of every sentence. And sometimes in the middle. And sometimes two or three times in the same sentence. And that fat ass would walk around with his hairy ass crack hanging out all the time. And he always said "we" instead of "you." Like, "How are we doing?" And, "What are we up to tonight?" And he always smelled soooooo bad. But I never told him. I never told him how any of that shit annoyed me. Now that jerk is actually resting in peace because I didn't have the balls to tell him what I really thought about him. GODDAMNIT!

Think you'll ever hear that at a funeral? Probably not, but you should. I've about reached my limit with people lately. Why is it, that when people die, we act like they were waaaaay better than they actually were? Like when somebody dies, you're not allowed to say anything bad about them ever again. Every small accomplishment they ever had has to be completely overblown so it sounds like they were the greatest, most respected person who ever lived. Every little story anybody can think of about that person somehow gets twisted and edited until it tells a great tale, about a man with great courage and bravery, and honesty and integrity, and humility and kindness. Why? Why does it have to be like that? Every time a public figure dies, you get two thousand people doing tributes to him, recalling every nugget of positive information about the guy, and even a few negative things that somehow magically become positives now that he's dead. It happens with everybody. I bet they didn't even say a bad thing about Adolf Hitler after he died. He was a man with great conviction. He really fought for what he believed. Nobody can fault him for that. And he was true to his friends and his people to the end. He was a leader of many and a follower of none. Yikes. We act like the dead guy is sitting in the coffin, listening and he's gonna jump out shooting if he doesn't like what he hears. When someone dies, it should a time to say anything we ever wanted about him. He can't respond or retaliate. They say that funerals are for the living, not for the dead, right? Well, as a living person, it would make me feel a whole hell of a lot better if I didn't have to pretend that I liked somebody just because he's dead.

Yes, I realize that this is a two-way street, and that it would mean that everything bad people had to say about me would come out after I die. But what do I care? I'm dead! I've been saying for years that I want my grave stone to read "Here lies Brad Boehm . . . Eh, he was a dick." I think that would sum up my life nicely. I can only imagine how my eulogy would sound . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Hooray! He's finally dead. I've been waiting for this day for so long, and it's finally here. What a dick he was, huh? I mean, come on! Is making fun of people all he did? Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. Let's see, where can I start? He was waaaay stupider, uglier and fatter than he thought he was. He was like Curly from the Three Stooges, but a lot less entertaining. He NEVER kept his blog up to date as often as he claimed he would, but then again maybe that's a good thing. Talk about boring! I've never read such drivel. Like if a couple of trainables had a kid, then beat him with a shovel and cut off his arms, he still would have been a better writer than Brad. Plus what was that stupid Amish-looking beard about? And, man, was his face red when Jesus showed up again in 2019. Atheist bastard, I hope you're rotting in Hell right now.