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This Eulogy What Was Read at Charles Crocker's Grave

This Eulogy What Was Read at Charles Crocker's Grave

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Published by S. Sandrigon
In Memoriam: Charles Crocker, in whose name we announce a dolorous Fake Wake, open to the masses.

Death, as it must to all men, has come to Charles Crocker.
In commemorating & celebrating the ending of his life, we must take the good with the bad. Yes, he was an asshole, but he was a rich asshole.
Guests, in appropriate mourning garments, are invited to gather at Mountain View Cemetery in Oakland, California, where we will stroll together to his mausoleum. There we briefly eulogize the deceased (2pm!), gazing upon the beautiful bay area cityscape which he so dearly loved with his tiny, tiny heart. A small potluck picnic to follow around the back of the hill, including IRISH WAKE AMUSEMENTS. (I encourage guests perhaps, in addition to a picnic item, to bring cheap champagne &/or guinness, to make Black Velvets.)
In Memoriam: Charles Crocker, in whose name we announce a dolorous Fake Wake, open to the masses.

Death, as it must to all men, has come to Charles Crocker.
In commemorating & celebrating the ending of his life, we must take the good with the bad. Yes, he was an asshole, but he was a rich asshole.
Guests, in appropriate mourning garments, are invited to gather at Mountain View Cemetery in Oakland, California, where we will stroll together to his mausoleum. There we briefly eulogize the deceased (2pm!), gazing upon the beautiful bay area cityscape which he so dearly loved with his tiny, tiny heart. A small potluck picnic to follow around the back of the hill, including IRISH WAKE AMUSEMENTS. (I encourage guests perhaps, in addition to a picnic item, to bring cheap champagne &/or guinness, to make Black Velvets.)

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Categories:Types, Speeches
Published by: S. Sandrigon on Aug 03, 2010
Copyright:Public Domain

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08/14/2010

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Friends, Roman, Countrymen, lend me your ears. I come not bury Crocker, but to marry Crocker.

I come not to marry Crocker, but to carry Mocker. I come not to curry favor, but to Gary Cooper. The kid stays in the picture. The evil that men do lives after them, it turns all green & follows them around like a ghastly ghosty. The good is oft interred with their boners, their boners, Nermal! Man that is born of a woman has but a short time to live, and is full of misery & cheap vodka. He never goes the bathroom before he leaves the house, and must hold it in, making the journey seem longer. He cometh up, he cometh down, he puts his left hand in, he puts his left hand out, he turns 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 in one stay, thursday, friday, saturday, sunday, monday, birthday, Independence day, Martin Luther King Jr Day, Days of our lives.

Charles Crocker was born on 16th September 1822, & died this week from a horrible carriage accident two years ago from which he never fully recovered. It was really, 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 be laid low by something as stupid as a carriage. It was really, really painful. And extremely humiliating, but on that we shall not dwell. How it hurt both his pride & his frail body. The pain.

But to fully remember the awesome, awe-inspiring life of one of the country’s great millionaires, we have to take the good with the bad. Yes, he was an asshole, but he was a rich asshole. Born in Troy, New York, to a simple humble family, he got his start in Indiana farming, sawmilling, & iron forging. For 14 months in 1843, he slept on Ringo Starr’s couch. In 1845 he founded a small, independent forge of his own, a sentence which I stole directly from Wikipedia. It was not just Charles Crocker’s iron-forge, but America’s iron forge, the American Dream, Seabiscuit, Apocalypse Now, Dazed & Confused, Harold & Kumar. But the gleam in his dream always seemed to gleam Westward towards the rising sun & Muscle Beach. One day he was playing with a model train in his garage & it ran off the tracks off the table onto the floor, & he said to a doe-eyed young boy who happened to be standing there, we need to build the tracks further West & make a crap-ton of money. And the boy looked up at him & said, what you’re going to need is a bunch of Chinamen who’ll work for rice. So in 1861 he became one of the Big Four Investors of the Central Pacific Railroad, along with Leland Stanford & [mumble mumble mumble]. Yada yada yada, in 1881 a golden spike was driven to complete the second transcontinental railroad across this glorious continent, and Charles Crocker would be one of the richest men walking upon the dusty soil of that very glorious incontinence. 40 Million Dollars, an amount of money which seems so pitifully quaint today, none of which he gave to philanthropy, charity, or education. He leaves behind some very rich family members, few friends, & 40 miles of ugly snow sheds lining the tracks thru the Sierra Nevadas. Crocker is an honorable men, so are they all, all honorable men, manly men, men in tights. Come I to speak in Crocker’s funeral. In the midst of life we are in death, & so we buy a convertible. Yet, O Lord God most holy, O Lord most mighty, O holy and most merciful Saviour, Big Daddy, deliver us not into the bitter pains of eternal death & traffic. Thou knowest, Lord, the secrets of our hard-ons; shut not thy merciful ears to our player-haters; but spare us, Lord most holy, O God most mighty, O holy and merciful Saviour, My Lord, My sweet sweet Lord, Oh my god, it’s so bright, it’s so vivid, so intense, it’s starting to look like a triple rainbow. What does this mean? A double rainbow all the way across the sky. We commend unto thy hands of mercy, most merciful Father, the soul of this our Crocker departed, and we commit his body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, pencil shavings to pencil shavings, trombones to trombones, giant squid to giant squid, agony to ecstasy, from here to eternity, to infinity & beyond, all the single ladies, AlleAlejandro. Grant this, O merciful Father, for the sake of Barack Obama, our only Saviour, Mediator, Advocate & a good man in a tight corner. Amen.

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