I have make jokes about a lot of things over the past twenty plus years; this week I have some funny obituaries. I have reached the age where I sometimes read the obituaries; most of them are not well written, but these samples I have are funny and sometimes touching. Most of these were written by loving relatives, but some were written in advance (obviously) by the person themselves. I have edited them only for length, cutting out the stuff that was less funny.
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James “Jim” Groth made his last wildly inappropriate and
probably sarcastic comment on July 28th.
His regrets were few but include eating a rotisserie hot
dog from a convenience store in the summer of 2002, not training his faithful
dog Rita to detect cancer, and that no video evidence exists of his prowess on
the soccer field or in the bedroom.
Although a less than average life span, Jim did not live
an average life. He traveled where he wanted to travel, laughed
inappropriately at every chance, learned what he wanted to learn, fix what he
wanted to fix and loved who he wanted to love.
Cremation will take place at the family’s convenience,
and his ashes will be kept around as long as they match the décor.
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Aaron Kuylmeyer, Age 35, died peacefully at home on
November 25 after complications from a radioactive spider bite that led to
years of crime-fighting and a year’s long battle with a nefarious criminal
named Cancer, who has plagued our society for far too long.
He is survived by first wife Gwen Stefani, current wife
Nora and their son Ralph, who will grow up to avenge his father’s untimely
death.”
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Pat Stocks, 94, passed away peacefully at her home in bed
July 1, 2015.
She left behind a hell of a lot of stuff to her daughter
and sons who have no idea what to do with it. You should wait the
appropriate amount of time and get in touch. Tomorrow would be fine.
This is not an ad for a pawn shop, but an obituary for a
great Woman, Mother, Grandmother and Great-Grandmother. She leaves behind
a very dysfunctional family that she was very proud of.
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So, the world doesn’t have Angus MacDonald to kick around
anymore. I’m gone! The devil finally called my name. The grim
reaper came for me on Friday March 25, 2016. I bought the farm. I
bit the dust. So I guess I’m off to the Promised Land?
I’m being cremated and my ashes are being scattered
(somewhere). So instead of going to see the great creator, I will be
going to see the great cremater.
I had some serious health problems the last few years,
but survived them (up till now anyway) with the help of my wife, Brenda; my
granddaughter, Nicole; and my sweetheart little dog, Scarlett. Scarlett died recently; there really are no
words to describe what a total de-stresser Scarlett was for me. I guess
if there’s a place in the after-life where little dogs and old dawgs go, then
that’s where you’ll find me and Scarlett. Maybe I’ll see you all there
sometime.
>>>>>
“Walter George Bruhl Jr. is a dead person, he is no more,
he is bereft of life, he is deceased, he has wrung down the curtain and gone to
join the choir invisible, he has expired and gone to meet his maker.
He drifted off this mortal coil on March 9, 2014 at his
home.
His spirit was released from his worn out shell of a body
and is now exploring the universe.
He was surrounded by his loving wife of 57 years, Helene
Sellers Bruhl, who will now be able to purchase the mink coat which he had
always refused her because he believed only minks should wear mink. Walt was preceded in death by his tonsils and
adenoids, a spinal disc, a large piece of his thyroid gland, and his prostate.
There will be no viewing since his wife refuses to honor
his request to have him standing in the corner of the room with a glass of Jack
Daniels in his hand so that he would appear natural to visitors.
Cremation will take place at the family’s convenience and
his ashes will be kept in a Grecian urn until they get tired of having it
around. What’s a Grecian Urn? Oh, about 200 drachmas a week.
Everyone who remembers him is asked to celebrate Walt’s
life in their own way. Raising a glass of their favorite drink in his
memory would be quite appropriate.
>>>>
“Norma Rae Flicker
Brewer, a resident of Fairfield, passed away while climbing Mount Kilimanjaro.
She never realized her life goal of reaching the summit, but made it to
the base camp.
Her daughter, Donna, her dog, Mia, and her cats, came
along at the last minute. There is suspicion that Mrs. Brewer died from
hypothermia, after Mia ate Mrs. Brewer’s warm winter boots and socks.
<<<<<
Waffle House lost a loyal customer on April 30, 2013.
Antonia W. “Toni” Larroux died after a battle with multiple illnesses:
lupus, rickets, scurvy, kidney disease and feline leukemia.
She had previously conquered polio as a child
contributing to her unusually petite ankles and the nickname “polio legs” given
to her by her ex-husband, Jean F. Larroux, Jr. It should not be difficult
to imagine the multiple reasons for their divorce 35+ years ago.
Two children resulted from that marriage. Due to multiple, anonymous Mother’s Day cards which arrived each May, the children suspect there were other siblings but that has never been verified. Toni often remarked that her son, Jean III, was “just like his father,” her ex-husband, Jean Jr., a statement that haunts her son to this day.
Her favorite activity was sipping hot tea on her back
porch with friends seated around her porch ensemble from Dollar General (again,
not kidding.) This ensemble will be sold to the highest bidder at her
garage ‘estate’ sale.
‘’’’’’’’’
On Saturday
February the 8th Molson’s stock price fell sharply on the news of Bill Eves’
passing. Senior executives at Molson called an emergency meeting to brace
for the impact of the anticipated drop in sales.
After his retirement he pursued some of his many hobbies
including cooking, carpentry, gardening and sending daily joke emails to family
and friends.
Perhaps most important to Bill was educating people on
the dangers of holding in your farts. Sadly, he was unable to attain his
life-long goal of catching his beloved wife Judy “cutting the cheese” or
“playing the bum trumpet”—which he likened to a mythical rarity like spotting
Bigfoot or a unicorn.
And finally, a joke on another topic provided by Dick.
I asked a supermarket worker where they kept canned
peaches.
He said ‘I’ll see.’ And walked away.
He did not come back so I gave up and eventually found
them.
They were in Aisle C.
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