Showing posts with label burial. Show all posts
Showing posts with label burial. Show all posts

Monday, 21 November 2011

Finney Visits Finney

Benny Finney takes some members of his congregation to the Westwood Cemetery in Oberlin, Ohio, to visit Charles Finney's grave site. Benny preached two sermons. One entitled, "Finney Filets the Five Points" and the other, "Over My Dead Body!"
Photo sent to Calvinistic Cartoons by Papa Razzi.  

Wednesday, 19 October 2011

Atheist Devotional Book #5

Yet another pathetic, preposterous page to ponder.
(note - this is Faye's seventh husband's funeral...not the fifth who was eaten by a bear.)

In the reception line at my husband's funeral, I privately prided myself for remaining dry-eyed. I graciously greeted the guests and thanked them for having come, so perfectly poised that people remarked, "My, you're taking this well."

"Well," I would tell them, "he WAS JUST A CARBON BASED UNIT THAT HAD HIS ELECTRICAL IMPULSES SMASHED OUT BY A TWO TON ROCK!.....HELLO!"

I have no patience with "sweetness"....and these were fellow atheists! Stupid morons.

Then, two days later, while I was going through my former husband's belongings, I came across a small voodoo doll pincushion that looked a great deal like me. In fact, a lock of my hair was taped to it's scrawny little head! That idiot was practicing voodoo in my own home, I tells ya!

I got in my car and drove for an hour, back to the burial site where that brainless buffoon was buried and poured ten gallons of grass killer and gasoline on his "resting place". I stepped back about twenty feet and lit a Roman candle. It didn't take long for that site to erupt in billowing flames.

"Take THAT ya voodoo-practicing monkey!"

The police arrived ten minutes later and I explained to them that some Christian teenagers were defacing my husband's cemetery plot! They believed every word. 

When this dies down, I'll be going back to do some more damage. Framing Christians is not a bad way to help our cause. Try it today!    

Wednesday, 31 March 2010

Corky's Gravesite


You can thank Polo LaFir for this photo of Corky's grave!
To view Corky's recorded life, look under this entry and find
labels: burial, corky, grave
then click on corky and you will have
all the postings of CV to date.
(you will have to click on older posts
when you reach the last one
to finish the series)

Monday, 20 July 2009

The Journal of Cotton Adams #15


August 11, 1739

One who had adorned the Gospel in life and in death, the deacon Vernon Smeengy, having desired that I should preach his funeral sermon, had instructions waiting by the way of a sealed letter. I went with a few friends to the house, which was filled with well nigh two hundred or more, and sang the song he had requested. As his body lie in peaceful repose, the church band, which consisted of fife, drum and upright bass started to play. They were there to accompany me as I sang this upbeat, finger-snapping, foot-stomping number. He desired to see it published and had me promise to record them for all to see. A man of my word, here are the words to his death song:

This old house once knew my children
This old house once knew my wife
This old house was home and shelter as we fought the storms of life
This old house once rang with laughter
This old house heard many shouts
Now she trembles in the darkness when the lightnin' walks about

Ain't gonna need this house no longer
Ain't gonna need this house no more
Ain't got time to fix the shingles
Ain't got time to fix the floor
Ain't got time to oil the hinges
Nor to mend the window pane
Ain't gonna need this house no longer
I'm getting ready to meet the saints

This old house is getting shaky
This old house is getting old
This old house lets in the rain and
This old house lets in the cold
On my knees I'm getting chilly
But I feel no fear or pain
'Cause I see an angel peeking through
A broken window pane

Ain't gonna need this house no longer
Ain't gonna need this house no more
Ain't got time to fix the shingles
Ain't got time to fix the floor
Ain't got time to oil the hinges
Nor to mend the window pane
Ain't gonna need this house no longer
I'm getting ready to meet the saints

Now my old hound dog lies asleeping
He don't know I'm gonna leave
Else he'd wake up by the fireplace
And he'd sit there, howl and grieve
But my hunting days are over
I ain't gonna hunt the 'coon no more
Gabriel done brought in chariot
When the wind blew down the door

Ain't gonna need this house no longer
Ain't gonna need this house no more
Ain't got time to fix the shingles
Ain't got time to fix the floor
Ain't got time to oil the hinges
Nor to mend the window pane
Ain't gonna need this house no longer
I'm getting ready to meet the saints

At the close of my sermon I asked, "If there be anyone here who knows any reason why this man should not be buried today, let them speak now or forever hold their peace."
We buried him, as per his request, in a casket shaped like the Ark of the Covenant.