What do you call 20 police cars, a cordoned-off suburb a massive punch-up and a riot?
The funeral of a gangster, of course.
Reflection music, 'I did it my way'
Recessional music 'Leave your hat on'
The ballad from a New Zealand icon, Barry Crump:
"Song of Driftin' On"
I'm splittin' from this worn out scene,
I'm packin' up me gear
I'm taking off for pastures greed,
I'm snatchin' it from here.
I've heard the things they said to me,
I've bogged myself in stuff,
I've took responsibility,
but now I've had enough.
I'll drag me hook, I'll just un-front,
I'm headin' to the door,
I'm casting, I'll pole me punt,
I'm not here anymore.
So good luck mate, I'm movin' on,
I'll leave this place to you,
And if they ask you where I've gone,
just tell them I shot through.
And if I meet you some other place
A stranger you will be,
I can't remember name or face,
They're all the same to me.
I'll greet you like a brother,
I'll make you laugh somewhere,
And then one day I'll drift away,
just like I'm doin' now.
And wouldn't the police like to get their hands on The Book of Remembrance- with over 400 mourners, it would be the Who's Who of the underworld...
Friday, November 6, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
as a world expert..
.. in high-end preplanning and legacy-building, now a guest writer on the largest US funeral directors' site.
PS I am really not as old as I look in the photo.
Introducing New Guest Writer - Clare Keenan - Founder of Curtain Call
(A kind reader has pointed out that you need to register to read- s0 a quick cut and paste. Oddly, the photo didn't survive the cut and paste)
Introducing New Guest Writer - Clare Keenan - Founder of Curtain Call
Written by Connecting Directors Tuesday, 27 October 2009 01:10
Film-making, portraiture, sourcing 144 bottles of Lagavulin ‘98 whisky to put in storage in Singapore for a future wake, finding someone who can provide a lantern carriage and six black plumed horses at short notice for a funeral - this is all in a day’s work for me.
The initial concept of my company, Curtain Call, was a high-end funeral pre-planning and event management service. This has now grown to offer legacy-building services. I work with award-winning directors and writers to make biographical films and biographies and store mementos, letters and gifts in vaults and safety deposit boxes.
I am not a funeral director, but work very closely with funeral directors in the US, Hong Kong, Singapore, Australia, New Zealand and the Caribbean. I have the highest respect for the work they do. Initially, I noticed some reserve from funeral directors who thought that my services overlapped with theirs, but they have come to see that this is not the case at all.
I have learnt a lot from funeral directors, most importantly, that funerals are just as much for the living as for the dead. So where possible, I include family members in the planning process- specifically in talking through philanthropy and organ donation, and always ensure that family and friends still feel ‘ownership’ of the funeral or memorial service. My staff can unobtrusively handle the administrative issues of flying family in, organising accommodation, looking after pets, cancelling mail, subscriptions and electronic accounts. This allows family and friends more time to be together and relieves some stress.
I have noticed that planning for death has sometimes changed people’s lives and spurred them to action. For example, finding a philanthropic legacy that is really meaningful for my clientele has seen some members so enthused that they have travelled to visit their chosen project in Trinidad or Indonesia to see where their money will go- what is known as ‘adventure philanthropy’. One of my clients also decided to finally speak to a family member who he hadn’t contacted in years, and another tracked down a child who had been adopted.
Nothing shocks me and I am non-judgmental - these are key attributes for this line of work. Most important for the people I deal with is that they are assured total discretion and the highest levels of attention. I am personally on call 24 hours a day, every day- and not just for emergency situations, but just for a chat or an update. And if they want face-to-face meeting I can guarantee them one anywhere in the world within 10 days. This may sound arduous, but it isn’t-because I have built a service that allows me to work only with people I really like- it’s always good to hear from them.
My members range in age from 42 to 73, and almost exactly a half male and half female split. On the younger end of the spectrum are people with high risk factors such as adventure sports, frequent travel to dangerous locations, possible targets for assassination, people who are far from their families and would require repatriation.
I have noticed much talk of the Baby Boomer generation and the idea the tailoring of funeral services is in some way egotistical and selfish. I find my members to be totally at odds with this description- they are people who really love and care for those they leave behind- they want to avoid arguments, confusion or for anyone to be out of pocket as a result of their death. They do not want to leave a big mess for everyone else to sort out, and they want everyone to be able to get on with their own lives after paying their respects.
My members are truly exceptional people- and under strict instructions not to die any time soon!
Author Bio
Clare Keenan was born in a remote copper-mining village in Africa. She holds a Bachelor of Arts in Philosophy and Classical Civilization, studied French Literature at the Sorbonne and has a Masters degree in Public Policy. Working from Paris and Sydney, Clare has co-ordinated countless international medical and political evacuations. In 1999, Clare was awarded the Canadian Government’s inaugural ‘Building a Better South Africa’ award for her work to improve the way survivors of violence were treated by the authorities. She has more recently worked as an advisor and speechwriter to political leaders. Clare is the founder of Curtain Call, an international members-only funeral pre-planning service working with a select clientele of celebrities and High-Net-Worth individuals and families.
Sort by: Date Rating Last Activity
Randy McCormick · 3 days ago
Welcome to the team Clare. Ryan has an uncanny talent for locating the most interesting people associated with this great profession. I look forward to your posts and I know many members will digest your input with an eye to being informed about the 'bigger picture' ...
PS I am really not as old as I look in the photo.
Introducing New Guest Writer - Clare Keenan - Founder of Curtain Call
(A kind reader has pointed out that you need to register to read- s0 a quick cut and paste. Oddly, the photo didn't survive the cut and paste)
Introducing New Guest Writer - Clare Keenan - Founder of Curtain Call
Written by Connecting Directors Tuesday, 27 October 2009 01:10
Film-making, portraiture, sourcing 144 bottles of Lagavulin ‘98 whisky to put in storage in Singapore for a future wake, finding someone who can provide a lantern carriage and six black plumed horses at short notice for a funeral - this is all in a day’s work for me.
The initial concept of my company, Curtain Call, was a high-end funeral pre-planning and event management service. This has now grown to offer legacy-building services. I work with award-winning directors and writers to make biographical films and biographies and store mementos, letters and gifts in vaults and safety deposit boxes.
I am not a funeral director, but work very closely with funeral directors in the US, Hong Kong, Singapore, Australia, New Zealand and the Caribbean. I have the highest respect for the work they do. Initially, I noticed some reserve from funeral directors who thought that my services overlapped with theirs, but they have come to see that this is not the case at all.
I have learnt a lot from funeral directors, most importantly, that funerals are just as much for the living as for the dead. So where possible, I include family members in the planning process- specifically in talking through philanthropy and organ donation, and always ensure that family and friends still feel ‘ownership’ of the funeral or memorial service. My staff can unobtrusively handle the administrative issues of flying family in, organising accommodation, looking after pets, cancelling mail, subscriptions and electronic accounts. This allows family and friends more time to be together and relieves some stress.
I have noticed that planning for death has sometimes changed people’s lives and spurred them to action. For example, finding a philanthropic legacy that is really meaningful for my clientele has seen some members so enthused that they have travelled to visit their chosen project in Trinidad or Indonesia to see where their money will go- what is known as ‘adventure philanthropy’. One of my clients also decided to finally speak to a family member who he hadn’t contacted in years, and another tracked down a child who had been adopted.
Nothing shocks me and I am non-judgmental - these are key attributes for this line of work. Most important for the people I deal with is that they are assured total discretion and the highest levels of attention. I am personally on call 24 hours a day, every day- and not just for emergency situations, but just for a chat or an update. And if they want face-to-face meeting I can guarantee them one anywhere in the world within 10 days. This may sound arduous, but it isn’t-because I have built a service that allows me to work only with people I really like- it’s always good to hear from them.
My members range in age from 42 to 73, and almost exactly a half male and half female split. On the younger end of the spectrum are people with high risk factors such as adventure sports, frequent travel to dangerous locations, possible targets for assassination, people who are far from their families and would require repatriation.
I have noticed much talk of the Baby Boomer generation and the idea the tailoring of funeral services is in some way egotistical and selfish. I find my members to be totally at odds with this description- they are people who really love and care for those they leave behind- they want to avoid arguments, confusion or for anyone to be out of pocket as a result of their death. They do not want to leave a big mess for everyone else to sort out, and they want everyone to be able to get on with their own lives after paying their respects.
My members are truly exceptional people- and under strict instructions not to die any time soon!
Author Bio
Clare Keenan was born in a remote copper-mining village in Africa. She holds a Bachelor of Arts in Philosophy and Classical Civilization, studied French Literature at the Sorbonne and has a Masters degree in Public Policy. Working from Paris and Sydney, Clare has co-ordinated countless international medical and political evacuations. In 1999, Clare was awarded the Canadian Government’s inaugural ‘Building a Better South Africa’ award for her work to improve the way survivors of violence were treated by the authorities. She has more recently worked as an advisor and speechwriter to political leaders. Clare is the founder of Curtain Call, an international members-only funeral pre-planning service working with a select clientele of celebrities and High-Net-Worth individuals and families.
Sort by: Date Rating Last Activity
Randy McCormick · 3 days ago
Welcome to the team Clare. Ryan has an uncanny talent for locating the most interesting people associated with this great profession. I look forward to your posts and I know many members will digest your input with an eye to being informed about the 'bigger picture' ...
Sunday, October 25, 2009
A great eulogy by John Cleese
Graham Chapman, co-author of the ‘Parrot Sketch,’ is no more.
He has ceased to be, bereft of life, he rests in peace, he has kicked the bucket, hopped the twig, bit the dust, snuffed it, breathed his last, and gone to meet the Great Head of Light Entertainment in the sky, and I guess that we’re all thinking how sad it is that a man of such talent, such capability and kindness, of such intelligence should now be so suddenly spirited away at the age of only forty-eight, before he’d achieved many of the things of which he was capable, and before he’d had enough fun.
Well, I feel that I should say, “Nonsense. Good riddance to him, the freeloading bastard! I hope he fries. “
And the reason I think I should say this is, he would never forgive me if I didn’t, if I threw away this opportunity to shock you all on his behalf. Anything for him but mindless good taste. I could hear him whispering in my ear last night as I was writing this:
“Alright, Cleese, you’re very proud of being the first person to ever say ’shit’ on television. If this service is really for me, just for starters, I want you to be the first person ever at a British memorial service to say ‘fuck’!”
You see, the trouble is, I can’t. If he were here with me now I would probably have the courage, because he always emboldened me. But the truth is, I lack his balls, his splendid defiance. And so I’ll have to content myself instead with saying ‘Betty Mardsen…’
But bolder and less inhibited spirits than me follow today. Jones and Idle, Gilliam and Palin. Heaven knows what the next hour will bring in Graham’s name. Trousers dropping, blasphemers on pogo sticks, spectacular displays of high-speed farting, synchronised incest. One of the four is planning to stuff a dead ocelot and a 1922 Remington typewriter up his own arse to the sound of the second movement of Elgar’s cello concerto. And that’s in the first half.
Because you see, Gray would have wanted it this way. Really. Anything for him but mindless good taste. And that’s what I’ll always remember about him—apart, of course, from his Olympian extravagance. He was the prince of bad taste. He loved to shock. In fact, Gray, more than anyone I knew, embodied and symbolised all that was most offensive and juvenile in Monty Python. And his delight in shocking people led him on to greater and greater feats. I like to think of him as the pioneering beacon that beat the path along which fainter spirits could follow.
Some memories. I remember writing the undertaker speech with him, and him suggesting the punch line, ‘All right, we’ll eat her, but if you feel bad about it afterwards, we’ll dig a grave and you can throw up into it.’ I remember discovering in 1969, when we wrote every day at the flat where Connie Booth and I lived, that he’d recently discovered the game of printing four-letter words on neat little squares of paper, and then quietly placing them at strategic points around our flat, forcing Connie and me into frantic last minute paper chases whenever we were expecting important guests.
I remember him at BBC parties crawling around on all fours, rubbing himself affectionately against the legs of gray-suited executives, and delicately nibbling the more appetizing female calves. Mrs. Eric Morecambe remembers that too.
I remember his being invited to speak at the Oxford union, and entering the chamber dressed as a carrot—a full length orange tapering costume with a large, bright green sprig as a hat—-and then, when his turn came to speak, refusing to do so. He just stood there, literally speechless, for twenty minutes, smiling beatifically. The only time in world history that a totally silent man has succeeded in inciting a riot.
I remember Graham receiving a Sun newspaper TV award from Reggie Maudling. Who else! And taking the trophy falling to the ground and crawling all the way back to his table, screaming loudly, as loudly as he could. And if you remember Gray, that was very loud indeed.
It is magnificent, isn’t it? You see, the thing about shock… is not that it upsets some people, I think; I think that it gives others a momentary joy of liberation, as we realised in that instant that the social rules that constrict our lives so terribly are not actually very important.
Well, Gray can’t do that for us anymore. He’s gone. He is an ex-Chapman. All we have of him now is our memories. But it will be some time before they fade.
He has ceased to be, bereft of life, he rests in peace, he has kicked the bucket, hopped the twig, bit the dust, snuffed it, breathed his last, and gone to meet the Great Head of Light Entertainment in the sky, and I guess that we’re all thinking how sad it is that a man of such talent, such capability and kindness, of such intelligence should now be so suddenly spirited away at the age of only forty-eight, before he’d achieved many of the things of which he was capable, and before he’d had enough fun.
Well, I feel that I should say, “Nonsense. Good riddance to him, the freeloading bastard! I hope he fries. “
And the reason I think I should say this is, he would never forgive me if I didn’t, if I threw away this opportunity to shock you all on his behalf. Anything for him but mindless good taste. I could hear him whispering in my ear last night as I was writing this:
“Alright, Cleese, you’re very proud of being the first person to ever say ’shit’ on television. If this service is really for me, just for starters, I want you to be the first person ever at a British memorial service to say ‘fuck’!”
You see, the trouble is, I can’t. If he were here with me now I would probably have the courage, because he always emboldened me. But the truth is, I lack his balls, his splendid defiance. And so I’ll have to content myself instead with saying ‘Betty Mardsen…’
But bolder and less inhibited spirits than me follow today. Jones and Idle, Gilliam and Palin. Heaven knows what the next hour will bring in Graham’s name. Trousers dropping, blasphemers on pogo sticks, spectacular displays of high-speed farting, synchronised incest. One of the four is planning to stuff a dead ocelot and a 1922 Remington typewriter up his own arse to the sound of the second movement of Elgar’s cello concerto. And that’s in the first half.
Because you see, Gray would have wanted it this way. Really. Anything for him but mindless good taste. And that’s what I’ll always remember about him—apart, of course, from his Olympian extravagance. He was the prince of bad taste. He loved to shock. In fact, Gray, more than anyone I knew, embodied and symbolised all that was most offensive and juvenile in Monty Python. And his delight in shocking people led him on to greater and greater feats. I like to think of him as the pioneering beacon that beat the path along which fainter spirits could follow.
Some memories. I remember writing the undertaker speech with him, and him suggesting the punch line, ‘All right, we’ll eat her, but if you feel bad about it afterwards, we’ll dig a grave and you can throw up into it.’ I remember discovering in 1969, when we wrote every day at the flat where Connie Booth and I lived, that he’d recently discovered the game of printing four-letter words on neat little squares of paper, and then quietly placing them at strategic points around our flat, forcing Connie and me into frantic last minute paper chases whenever we were expecting important guests.
I remember him at BBC parties crawling around on all fours, rubbing himself affectionately against the legs of gray-suited executives, and delicately nibbling the more appetizing female calves. Mrs. Eric Morecambe remembers that too.
I remember his being invited to speak at the Oxford union, and entering the chamber dressed as a carrot—a full length orange tapering costume with a large, bright green sprig as a hat—-and then, when his turn came to speak, refusing to do so. He just stood there, literally speechless, for twenty minutes, smiling beatifically. The only time in world history that a totally silent man has succeeded in inciting a riot.
I remember Graham receiving a Sun newspaper TV award from Reggie Maudling. Who else! And taking the trophy falling to the ground and crawling all the way back to his table, screaming loudly, as loudly as he could. And if you remember Gray, that was very loud indeed.
It is magnificent, isn’t it? You see, the thing about shock… is not that it upsets some people, I think; I think that it gives others a momentary joy of liberation, as we realised in that instant that the social rules that constrict our lives so terribly are not actually very important.
Well, Gray can’t do that for us anymore. He’s gone. He is an ex-Chapman. All we have of him now is our memories. But it will be some time before they fade.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Nurse Lucy
The luscious Lucy Lawless (aka Xena Warrior Princess) was in Wellington this week to raise awareness on climate change. I bet isn't one right-wing senator who could fail to sign anything presented by Lucy in a nurse's uniform...hint - export Lobbying Lawless to the US if you want some climate change action. Gore's just not that hot.
(note to marketers- the ad copy:
"Lucy Lawless signed on and she wants you to join her
http://www.signon.org.nz/"
http://www.signon.org.nz/"
sounds like she is asking everyone to go on the dole, further stereotyping climate change believers as loser lefty layabouts)
Saturday, October 17, 2009
While I was sleeping...
A reporter on breakfast TV got hold of my business card. Who could he be associating with?
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
This day this year...
In the quintessential Kiwi bach in Mahia on the East Coast of New Zealand. Surf-casting for dinner got us a wharehou. One pub run by a female former prison warden. Shakes her head in disgust at the thought of tourists who want 'customer service'. Makes some fine preserves and a tomato and rhubarb sauce.
An attempt to get medication for my worsening cold reveals that cold medication is sold in the local store only in bulk- apparently to prevent the manufacture of 'pure' methamphetamine- 'P' (?!). Am tempted to ask locals if they can turn some of their P back into cold medication.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Friday, October 2, 2009
Happy Old Man's Day
"Old Man’s Day, commemorated in the quiet village of Braughing (pronounced Braffing) in Hertfordshire, is a custom that somewhat unusually celebrates something that - happily - didn’t happen. On October 2 1571 a sad procession was making its way to St Mary’s church in the village. Among the mourners was the fiancée of farmer Matthew Wall, who though still in his prime had been found dead. As the pall-bearers walked along tree-lined Fleece Lane one of them slipped on the leaves that had fallen in early autumn. The coffin slid from his grasp and fell with a jolt to the earth. When the men took hold of their burden again they were to say the least shocked to hear banging from within the coffin. The fall had woken Matthew from his coma or narcoleptic fit, and he was thumping the lid quite literally for dear life. Saved from being buried alive, Matthew went on to marry his sweetheart and to live another 24 years. In his will dated 1595 he made provisions to commemorate his remarkable escape. Matthew left the income from a piece of land in the village to ensure every October 2 the church bells would toll in remembrance, and later that they would ring a wedding peal to recall his marriage. The sexton of the church is enjoined to place brambles on his gravestone to stop sheep from wandering over it. And rather more strangely given the circumstances, Farmer Wall made arrangements to ensure Fleece Lane be swept on October 2 – had the lane been clear of detritus on October 2 1571 he would have met a terrible end.These days it is schoolchildren who sweep the lane on Old Man’s Day, for which they are rewarded with sweets, and a song concerned with the miraculous escape is sung in St Mary’s. It is to be hoped that youthful imaginations play on the happier aspect of the tale, otherwise...sleep well children."
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Only-Person-in-the-World-Syndrome 2
Stopping at the top of escalators and having a little look around.
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