Bust A Leg

Had a funeral last week, and while it sounds bad to say it, it was probably the first one in a long while where I actually felt happy. Not because of spite or anything, but because she finally is able to rest after 95 years. She'll be missed, but she's left us with nothing but good memories... she'll long live on.

While I was not feeling bad for her, I did feel bad for my uncle ('twas his mother), and my cousins. They all think the same way I do, but they were having a rough go of it. My one cousin, who is my personality twin, kept tearing up, thus tearing me up. It didn't last long.

The minister came out and started speaking, and I spent my time trying to concentrate on his words and not his voice. I swear unto you, he sounded exactly like Boris Karloff... voice, cadence, and forming of words. While he was reading words of comfort, all I could hear in my head, after "Jesus said," were lines from "The Secret Life of Walter Mitty: "Did you know that an icicle inserted into the brain... will melt slowly and leave no trace?... Perhaps you'd be interested in a different method?... The sensory nerve at the base of the skull is vulnerable to an assassin. One merely presses with the thumbs, thus-"

Not very appropriate, but I'm sure it's a nervous thing. My sister has the same thing. She once laughed through a funeral. So hard that she was crying, which brought on a sypathetic pat on the back, and words of comfort. Which, of course, renewed the laughter...

My struggle not to laugh ended soon enough, when someone got up to read the 23^rd Psalm, and give their comments. I ended up pissed...

Yes, I admit... I do have a problem with the guy who got up to read. No, I'm not going to go on about it, other than to say that he's way fricking overboard when it comes to religion. It just grates me.

Anyone who's sat through a funeral is very familiar with the psalm. There usually is a commentary following the reading, so that the brain dead will understand the analogy. We got our commentary before, and during, and after.

We were reminded of the stoopiditee of sheep, and the shepherds' duties and responsibilities. The Valley was described, the pastures and waters explained, and the function of the rod and staff given. Now, I'll probably be the idiot, but that's the part that just pissed me off. These are his words, not mine...

"The rod, staff, or shepherd's crook were used to count sheep. As the sheep were grazing or sleeping, the shepherd would touch each one as he counted. They were also used to inspect their wool... the shepherd would pull back the wool looking for bugs or whatever. Guiding the sheep was another use, as well as driving away predators.

When a sheep would wander off, and get lost, the shepherd would break the sheep's leg with the staff, and carry it back to the flock. It wouldn't be able to wander off."

Huh?

The first thing I thought was that the commentor has no experience with livestock, at all. I think his picture of the shepherd looks alot like this here. The next thing that flashed into my mind was an image of a shepherd beating the everloving piss out of an errant sheep and then dragging it's crippled body back to the flock of it's disabled peers.

I think that my good friend confused hobbling, or tethering, with crippling. WTF kinda moron is going to cripple their stock? And even if they did, why wouldn't they drive it back to the fold before busting them up? Perhaps it was done this way... I'll be honest and say that I haven't a clue. It just sounds like an idiotic thing to do, Gott, shepherd, or no.

Have any of you ever heard this before?

Oh, and speaking of "Have you heard this before," what's the difference between a Scotsman and Mick Jagger?

A Scot yells, "'ey, McLeod! Get offa my ewe!!!"

Posted by That 1 Guy at January 18, 2006 01:27 PM