Close to Home by John McPherson for November 21, 2018

Like the peasant said in Monty Python and the Holy Grail when the operators of the ‘bring out your dead’ wagon kept trying to throw ’im on it: “I feel happyyyyyy…” :-)

BRING OUT YOUR DEAD!Man: Here’s one-Cart-master: Ninepence.Old Man: (feebly) I’m not dead!Cart-master: (suprised) What?Man: Nothing! Here’s your ninepence….Old Man: I’m not dead!Cart-master: ‘Ere! ’E says ’e’s not dead!Man: Yes he is.Old Man: I’m not!Cart-master: ‘E isn’t?Man: Well… he will be soon— he’s very ill…Old Man: I’m getting better!Man: No you’re not, you’ll be stone dead in a moment.Cart-master: I can’t take ‘im like that! It’s against regulations!Old Man: I don’t want to go on the cart….Man: Oh, don’t be such a baby.Cart-master: I can’t take ‘im….Old Man: I feel fine!Man: Well, do us a favor…Cart-master: I can’t!Man: Can you hang around a couple of minutes? He won’t be long…Cart-master: No, gotta get to Robinson’s, they lost nine today.Man: Well, when’s your next round?Cart-master: Thursday.Old Man: I think I’ll go for a walk….Man: You’re not fooling anyone, you know— (to Cart-master) Look, isn’t there something you can do…?

(they both look around)

Old Man: I feel happy! I feel happy!

(the Cart-master deals the old man a swift blow to the head with his woodenspoon.The old man goes limp.)

Man: (throwing the old man onto the cart) Ah. thanks very much.Cart-master: Not at all. See you on Thursday!Man: Right! All right….

We paid for that plot, and by God, you’re going to use it.

He was just dying to see how many people would actually show up for his funeral!

His friends assembled at the wake,

And Mrs. Finnegan called for lunch,

First they brought in tay and cake,

Then pipes, tobacco, and whiskey punch.

Miss Biddy O’Brien began to cry,

“Such a neat clean corpse, did you ever see,

Arrah, Tim mavourneen, why did you die?”

“Ah, hould your gab,” said Paddy McGee.

(Chorus:) Whackfolthedah …

[…]

Then Micky Maloney raised his head,

When a noggin of whiskey flew at him,

It missed and falling on the bed,

The liquor scattered over Tim;

Bedad he revives, see how he rises,

And Timothy rising from the bed,

Says, “Whirl your liquor round like blazes,

Thanam o’n dhoul, do ye think I’m dead?”

[Irish, “Soul to the devil …”]

(Chorus:) Whackfolthedah

(In James Joyce’s book, they then tell him that he already has an successor and he should stay in the coffin.)

they’re crying over their lost inheritance

Wanna keep it down. We’re trying to grieve over here.

Granny Weatherwax: “I hain’t dead”.

I’m missing the little alien… He disappeared in a lady’s car on the 17th. He’s been abducted!

Yeah, but now you’re gutless.

In answer to Steven Covey’s question “What do you want people to say about you at your funeral?” my response is “HOLY SMOKE!!!HE’S ALIVE!”

“I see dead people … "