Good morning my little pudding snacks, how’s every little thing?

Aren’t you proud that I actually managed to get the Lazy Monday Poll (which, as I’ve mentioned before, I pinched from Now Smell This, a perfume blog you all should read) up on what can only be described as an actual Monday? If not you should be.

Last week I asked you to weigh in on Boobquake, and many of you including Cat and Jezebella,  had the same feelings about it that I did, and are tired of being asked to get their kit off for Very Special Causes.  While Orora wrote:

“Well, I kinda look at Boobquake this way: I’m a multi-faceted person. I’m sexual and smart. I can be both at the same time. If other people look at me as an object for showing excess cleavage (to borrow a phrase) that’s their issue. It doesn’t diminish my feelings about my own smarts if someone looks at me and just sees boobs. For me, and I don’t presume to speak for any other woman, feminism means the right to embrace my sexuality and my brain.”

Our own beloved but clearly wrong-thinking Miranda said she didn’t get it, and besides “the only Lafayette that matters is on True Blood.”  Doctor Google tells me in a television show about vampires, which normally would be grounds for much mocking, but because she did just get accepted to Tulane (congratulations) I shall withhold my mockery and simply point out that there are only two Lafayettes that truly matter:

Lafayette #1:
Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de La Fayette aka General Lafayette, who is the only person to appear on both the my list for  Top Five Biscuits of the American Revolution and Top Five Biscuits of the French Revolution.

(I’d hit it like it was Louisiana in a land grab)

and Lafayette #2
(more…)

Hey ho caption fans! It’s time once again to play Twistie’s Sunday Caption Madness. You all know how this works. I find an image simply begging for a caption. You provide said captions via the comments function. Next week I declare a winner and we all rejoice with the victor… or the victoria.

This week’s image comes from the party incredibly hardy file, and it looks a little like this:

Ready… set… snark!

The story goes that the above quote is what W.C. Fields wanted for his epitaph. Alas, humorless folk left him stuck with the mere legend of ’1880 – 1946.’ That’s entirely too dreary and prosaic for a man who epitomized anarchic humor in his work. BTW, if you have never seen The Bank Dick, go thou forth and have some good belly laughs.

Anyway.

I’ve long had a fondness for a good epitaph, or even a particularly ironic one. For instance, Bonnie Parker’s headstone reads:

As the flowers are all made sweeter
by the sunshine and the dew,
so this old world is made brighter
by the lives
of folks like you.

That’s right. Bonnie of Bonnie and Clyde is memorialized on her grave as someone who made the world a brighter, happier place. Well okay, then.

Then there are the ones that are unquestionably appropriate. For instance, George Carlin’s headstone reads:

“#$%& @!&% #?!$% @?*&!@^#!* @*$! &!%?”

What could possibly be a better way to remember the man who taught us about the seven dirty words you cannot say on television?

It’s also impossible to argue with Jack Lemmon’s epitaph:

As for me, well, if someone ever wants to erect a monument to my existence, I can think of few more fitting words than those on a pin a friend of mine gave me a couple years back: Come to the dark side. We have cookies.

Either that or Douglas Adams’ words about Earth: Mostly Harmless.

As per usual, I can’t decide. I like them both.

So what about all of you? How would you like to be remembered in the great hereafter? What words would you like future generations to puzzle over concerning you? Is there an epitaph you’ve seen or heard of that makes you laugh or makes you think? Share with the class!