CHUCK LORRE PRODUCTIONS, #497
To be read aloud at my funeral.
Well... this is depressing. Which, I guess, beats the alternative. Certainly don't want my send off to be a ding-dong-the-witch-is- dead flash mob. Perhaps there's a middle ground. A little light sobbing, some clothes rending. Nothing over the top. To all the actors here, let's try and keep this day about me. Okay, now that we've settled on the appropriate level of somber, I'd like to go over a few things before LIFE GOES ON WITHOUT ME, THANK YOU VERY MUCH! First, I want it known that I am deeply grateful for how things turned out. In retrospect - and yes, everything is in retrospect now - even the awful stuff seems to have had a purpose. When I was a young man a pretty girl smiled at me, so I did exactly what any young man would do, I joined her new-age religion. Seven years later I awoke, as if from a dream, and carried on like nothing happened. Which made sense because for seven years nothing happened. Being too poor to go to a doctor when I had ulcerative colitis made me a big supporter of free health care, as well as appreciative of the life-affirming qualities in a good bowel movement. Two failed marriages and many failed relationships taught me the fine art of apologizing. A decade or so of professional failures proved that hardship builds character, just not a very good one. And then there's all the great things that happened. My children - despite years of fatherly neglect - turned out to be awesome. Shaking off a severe drop in revenue, the Jack Daniels company managed to limp along without me. I stumbled into an incredible career when I realized I had a better chance at becoming the next Sherwood Schwartz than the next Bruce Springsteen. So again, looking back, other than dying, I have no real complaints. Looking forward, well, if the lights in the chapel flicker... NOW!... it means I'm a non-corporeal spiritual entity with a delightful streak of mischievousness (more Spooky than Casper). If not, the likely scenario is I exist only in your memories, and, after the ceremony, as landfill in a Jewish cemetery. So, to sum up a lifetime: "Here lies me. I did the best I could with what I had. I never stopped trying to be better. My flaws were plentiful. No need to list them here. We all know what they were -- don't we ladies? But I did love. And as I got older I think I learned how to love more. I hope that's what you remember about me."
"And that I was perfectly willing to end a heartfelt moment with a cheap dick joke."
