Have a funeral for the "crusty old pessimist"!!!

Thanks to everybody for attending. It was a good send-off! The music was apt, the food was good, the sevice moving, and the ladies dressed so elegantly!

I’ll be building a huge monument on the spot, to make sure he stays under ground. Suggestions for inscriptions are invited!

the Pessimist is dead
the Pessimist is dead
Ding Dong
the Crusty Old Pessimist is DEAD!!!

I appreciate being invited to help out. This was lots of fun.

It was a nice service.

OHWhat a Wonderful Worldwritten by Bob Thiele and George David Weiss; performed by Louis Armstrong

I see trees of green, red roses too
I see them bloom for me and you
And I think to myself what a wonderful world.

I see skies of blue and clouds of white
The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night
And I think to myself what a wonderful world.

The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces of people going by
I see friends shaking hands saying how do you do
They’re really saying I love you.

I hear babies crying, I watch them grow
They’ll learn much more than I’ll never know
And I think to myself what a wonderful world
Yes I think to myself what a wonderful world

Make sure the pessimist doesn’t reincarnate.

“A pessimist is a man who thinks all women are bad. An optimist is one who hopes they are.”

Chauncey Depew

At this funeral, how would you counsel those who may still mourn & battle their living pessimists?

The Cockeyed OptimistFrom the musical “South Pacific”, music by Richard Rodgers, lyrics by Oscar Hammerstein IIperformed by Nellie(in this case, Mary Martin

When the skies are brighter canary yellow
I forget ev’ry cloud I’ve ever seen,
So they called me a cockeyed optimist
Immature and incurably green.

I have heard people rant and rave and bellow
That we’re done and we might as well be dead,
But I’m only a cockeyed optimist
And I can’t get it into my head.

I hear the human race
Is fallin’ on its face
And hasn’t very far to go,
But ev’ry whippoorwill
Is sellin’ me a bill,
And tellin’ me it just ain’t so.

I could say life is just a bowl of Jello
And appear more intelligent and smart,
But I’m stuck like a dope
With a thing called hope,
And I can’t get it out of my heart!
Not this heart…

Oh hard is the bed they have made him,
   And common the blanket and cheap;
But there he will lie as they laid him:
   Where else could you trust him to sleep?

Fragment from Illic Jacet, by A.E. Housman