Today's funeral report is brought to you courtesy of Facebook messaging and stars my college chum Steven Wolfe, now a writer and literature prof.
SW: Irish and Italian. That's a whole lotta Catholic. Feel guilty much?
AC: Only when I announced that I wanted to "snatch the weenie priest bald" in front of devout relatives.
He had this a sort of Polyphemus tuft against a monk-like pate. And kept saying daft things like, "this isn't about your nostalgia or grief. It's about EMMA'S ETERNAL SALVATION. We sing God's songs in God's house."
SW: Amanda, that note is one of strangest and most fascinating little pieces of writing I've ever received. I don't think there's a single sentence in it that I've ever read before. It's Shane MacGowan after a kick in the face from a donkey.
AC: I can't take much credit: the weenie priest authored most of it...
At least he did something right.