Yes, I know, this is not exactly a cheerful title, but I think it will be a pleasant post, and anyway we are in the middle of the week after all. Maybe that's why I thought about funerals. It happens sometimes. There are many, many scenes in The Wire I love, this is one of them. There is the friendship of these brothers in arms, a sincere, honest eulogy of a man who did is job well (most of the time), the loss and sorrow drowned in alcohol and party atmosphere. Oh, and there is The Body of an American by The Pogues.
I don't know if I want a funeral wake like this when I die, but I do want something akin to this: a night in an Irish pub, good music (maybe more this song, as I am not a "free born man of the USA") and a eulogy that would not idealise me too much. There is no worst homage than a fake one. "He was called, he served, he is counted." That is all that needs to be said about any half decent man I think.
5 hours ago