Friends, Roman, Countrymen, lend me yourears. I come not bury Crocker, but to marry Crocker. I come not to marry Crocker, but tocarry Mocker. I come not to curry favor, butto Gary Cooper. The kid stays in the picture. The evil that men do lives after them, it turnsall green & follows them around like a ghastly ghosty. The good is oft interred with theirboners,
their boners, Nermal
! Man that is bornof a woman has but a short time to live, and isfull of misery & cheap vodka. He never goesthe bathroom before he leaves the house, andmust hold it in, making the journey seemlonger. He cometh up, he cometh down, heputs his left hand in, he puts his left hand out, heturns himself about, is cut down like a flower, stomped upon with soccer cleats, spat upon,shat upon, he fleeth as it were a shadow, or a spooky creepy thing, and never continueth inone stay, thursday, friday, saturday, sunday, monday, birthday, Independence day, MartinLuther King Jr Day, Days of our lives.Charles Crocker was born on 16th September 1822, &died this week from a horrible carriage accident twoyears ago from which he never fully recovered. It wasreally, really painful. The carriage came out of
nowhere. How ironic that a man who’s mighty
fortunes came from the conquering of the mighty West with mighty iron rails & mighty usury could belaid low by something as stupid as a carriage. It wasreally, really painful. And extremely humiliating, but onthat we shall not dwell. How it hurt both his pride & hisfrail body. The pain.