What would you like to be said about you at your funeral?

I haven't done one of Grab's patented "Blog Ideas of the Day" in a while, so here goes.  I would like the eulogy at my own funeral to go a little something like this:

"Whoops! Sorry, wrong room."

Hahahaha.  I kid, I kid.

Lex Friedman was a good man.  Ever since he cured cancer while hosting his second episode of Saturday Night Live, I knew he was destined for greatness.  Whether it was his overwhelming handsomeness or his instrinsic charm that did it, Lex and success seemed to have more than passing end-rhyme in common.

When President and later Chief Justice Friedman and I first met, it was because he had saved my life my rescuing me from a burning pool of fire in which I was both aflame and drowning.  He carried me out of the disaster with one well-chiseled arm, and made the funniest joke I had ever heard, which itself then became world-famous and thus needn't be retold here.

But now he is gone.  After a short, scant 372 years on this year, President Chief Justice Dr. Captain Chief Sir Master His Royal Highness Lex Friedman, ESQ. has accomplished more -- and acquired more titles -- than any of us ever will or should.  His style of greatness comes but once an epoch.  And we are all better for having shared just a smidgen of oxygen with this fine man.

That'd be a good one.