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Cheating Father Gets Unvarnished Obituary

A Florida man, Lawrence Pfaff Jr., gave an all-warts review of his father, Lawrence Pfaff, in a Jacksonville obituary.

Lawrence H Pfaff Sr. was born in Belmont, NY, on April 16, 1941. He passed away on June 27, 2022, living a long life, much longer than he deserved. He is survived by his three children, no four. Oops, five children. Well, as of 2022 we believe there is one more that we know about, but there could be more. His love was abundant when it came to himself, but for his children it was limited. From a young age, he was a ladies’ man and an abusive alcoholic, solidifying his commitment to both with the path of destruction he left behind, damaging his adult children, and leaving them broken.

Lawrence, Sr’s hobbies included abusing his first wife and children. He loved to start projects but never followed through on any of them. He enjoyed the life of a bar fly for many years and had a quaint little living space, studio, above his favorite hole in the wall, the club Nashville.

Lawrence, Sr. did spend over 20 years in the NYPD, but even his time in service was negligent at best. Because of his alcohol addiction, his Commanding Officer took away his gun and badge, replacing them with a broom until he could get his act together.

Lawrence, Sr. did claim to be clean and sober for over thirty years, but never worked any of the twelve steps, including the eighth and ninth steps with his children, making amends. He possesses no redeeming qualities for his children, including the ones he knew, and the “ones he knew about.”

It will be challenging to miss Lawrence, Sr. because he was narcissistic. He was incapable of love. Lawrence, Sr.’s passing proves that evil does eventually die, and it marks a time of healing, which will allow his children to get the closure they deserve. Lawrence, Sr. can be remembered for being a father to many, and a dad to none.

National media picked up the story and NBC news interviewed Pfaff about what possessed him to accurately describe his shitheel sperm donor.

Writing the obituary was a process of healing from his childhood trauma, his son, Lawrence Pfaff Jr., told NBC News….

Despite not having contact with his father for the past 30 years, Pfaff explained, “I still really needed to close that part of my life.”

“I started rewriting my words in a way that I could communicate that without bashing him. Just stating the truth — which was all I needed to do. Get my truth out,” he said.

Shockingly, a lot of people instead of scolding him for speaking ill of the dead, wrote to him to say they could relate and thanked him. (Forgiveness trolls? Where are you?)

So your Friday Challenge is to write your own (imaginary) obituary for your cheating ex or useless parent, or miscreant of your choosing.

TGIF!

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  • I found it fascinating that the man spoke his truth, was validated by random strangers and then the newspaper(you know media truth tellers) was trying to back peddle the whole thing🤷‍♀️

    • Part of the poisonous pedagogy of “Honor thy mother and thy father” perhaps ? Well if a parent behaved dishonorably by abusing their spouse and their children, they deserve public albeit posthumous shaming. In my opinion.

    • Obituaries are completely separate from editorial content. They’re not, per se, “news.” There’s an entirely different set of norms and folkways that apply.

      • Obits are editorial pieces whereas death notices are paid for by family members, friends and colleagues.

        The staff at many small town papers in the US are being downsized or outright eliminated. I wonder if Pfaff, Jr. submitted the notice by filling out some form online, no human (an editor) read it and the bot sent it directly to the printer or the paper’s website.

        For those interested, “Obit” the ‘16 movie about The NY Times obit department is a good watch.

        • Obits are not editorial. They are paid for now. Just like an advertisement. You can write it as you want. No editing whatsoever.

  • I’ve already written his obit by my actions. I filed for divorce, resumed my maiden name and am no contact with he and his family. A painful, but necessary commemoration of a 30-year marriage.

    • Similar approach here to a gray divorce, over-and-done. I kept the last name though because my professional background goes with it. Frankly, it doesn’t bother me at all to keep using it. My family of origin was similarly disordered, so going back to that name or making up a new one really didn’t do it for me.

      I’ve told our adult kids that I’m not going to the funeral if he kicks the bucket first. They both asked my opinion. It is completely their choice to go or not. His family can write the obituary and remember him the way they want without my awkward presence. A good friend of mine at my 12-step group encouraged me to think that through when the time comes, but I doubt that I will change my mind. That 12-step group started my road to sanity, thank God.

      • I kept my married name, too. I wanted to have the same name as my kids, plus I am known by the married name and have had it longer than the maiden name. Finally, and maybe most importantly, is the fact that FW and AP/now wife HATE that I share “their” name. One little shit sandwich for them and a tiny bit of satisfaction for me.

        • I kept the name too. Mostly because of my kids and my grandsons. I also had a very hard to pronounce maiden name. But, it gives me joy to think the AP and FW are mad I kept it!!😅

        • Same!! OWife HATES that I still have the name. One reason to keep it. Otherwise, I had a business and that’s the name people knew me by so I kept it. Plus, my ‘father’ didn’t earn the right to have his name used by me so it was really a no-brainer to keep it.

  • One of the biggest closures for me was when my daughter wanted to change her last name for mine pre-marriage. It was a big deal for his name to continue. As the only male in his family, now it’s sure to never happen. He’s dead to us.

    • Took my maiden name back 8 years ago at my divorce hearing. He took ownership of everything during our marriage, including my soul. I took my life back when I left him. My children applauded me.

      • People Pleaser,

        Your post made me think back to a few years ago, when the divorce process from the FW XW was coming to an end (which I had to initiate, naturally, after she exit-affaired me after almost 25 years of marriage. Classic and classy, don’t ya think?😐). My son (our only remaining minor child at the time of her affair) informed me that his mother would be taking back her maiden name immediately following the absolute end of the divorce (she was a popular local politician at the time, and would soon be putting up signs around town for her re-election campaign, advertising her soon-to-be name change, but throwing in her married name as well so people wouldn’t get too confused about who they were actually voting for. Again, classy🙄).

        Putting aside the fact that the FW XW frequently tended to (and continues to) deliver messages through our son (and daughters) instead of directly to me (because I’m being terrible by going as grey rock as possible), I looked at him and said, “Good. And I say that because I don’t want her to ever be associated with my family’s name again.” I may not be getting this memory absolutely correct, as too much time and shit has gone by, but I thought you might appreciate the view from the male chump’s side. I think possibly my son may have made the statement I attribute to myself (which if correct, surprised the hell out of me and the rest of the family w/his leap of intuition), but my memory’s getting fuzzy, unfortunately.

        Anyway, congratulations to you on reclaiming your own identity, and getting away from the FW in your life. It’s so much better now, isn’t it? They broke our hearts and put us through hell, but we’ve come out of it stronger and wiser than before (are we Gandalf?😂). Whereas they’re still douche-bags. Wishing you and your family peace, happiness and lots of love, People Pleaser.😊

  • The Lying Cheating Loser was laid to rest today in Swampland Cemetery. The minuscule graveside service was attended only by his last known girlfriend and an unknown woman. In lieu of pallbearers, cemetery staff lowered the coffin into the ground, at which time a physical fight broke out between the two attending women.
    The Lying Cheating Loser, at the time of his passing, had four known children by three different mothers, but there are likely about half a dozen others. None of his children were named after him, though true to his narc nature he liked to refer to them as “LCL Jr.”, “LCL III” “LCL IV” and “LCL V”.
    The Lying Cheating Loser was born in Armpit, Texas. He served in the armed forces until his laziness, subpar performance, extramarital activities, and domestic disputes caused the military to pay him money to separate.
    As a civilian, he held a string of unremarkable jobs where he was known for sexual liaisons with his female colleagues and vicious conflicts with his male colleagues and superiors of either gender.
    The Lying Cheating Loser was estranged from his entire family, his first ex-wife, and all of his children. He leaves no assets and no estate. He is mourned by nobody, unless you count all the many women he preyed upon, who are said to mourn only the time, energy, and money they wasted on a soulless parasite.
    Today, the sun in Texas shines a little brighter to mark the passing of the Lying Cheating Loser into his afterlife in a place rumored to be even hotter than Texas in July.

      • Thanks Nita! I must be at meh, because it made me a little sad to write this. The LCL was my life partner for four years (I’m four years out). Although he is the worst human I have ever met, and I don’t forgive him for all the trauma he willfully inflicted upon me, he came into this world an innocent baby like the rest of us.
        I’m re-reading “The Body Keeps The Score” by Bessel Van Der Kolk right now, so thinking about childhood trauma (which the LCL suffered) and its lifelong effects has me feeling a little melancholy.

        • I dare say WW, you have a kinder heart than I do. See my funeral song for my ex below.

          And “Armpit, Texas” is just stellar.

          • Having had the dubious pleasure of visiting “Armpit, Texas” (just up the road a ways from Buttcrack, Texas) I can assure you the name is apt.

    • Well written. There is a song video that looks just like this funeral with the 2nd woman lurking in the back. I can’t remember the song though. It’s country though. Maybe Reba.

  • Many a widow and child has had to eat the shit sandwich at the funeral when everyone drops the kind words and praises for the deceased – when they know what rotten, lyin SOBs they lived with. I have no probs with this obit. My dad was such a good person – but – he drank throughout my childhood and , well, when you live with alcoholism it taints everything, including what’s normal. That affects your picker, too.

    • I remember how angry I was when my two siblings had a grave marker for my father, who was a violent, jealous, controlling man (and who sexually abused me), inscribed with the words “Extraordinary father and friend.”

      • That stuff bothers me too. It’s one thing to just stay quiet about it when they die but too many people want to rewrite history and it’s gross. When my dad died I had to hear what a wonderful loving father/husband/brother/uncle etc that he was when he was an abusive monster. People fell all over themselves trying to shame me for refusing to participate in that. I wasn’t even saying anything, just not joyfully and loudly participating in the lie was a problem for them. It’s disgusting.

        • KP I have been following your comments on CN and I very much admire your honesty and sticking it to the bastards. My ASD 9 yo is brutally honest and I hope that he can retain this quality as the world is full off too much BS that enables abuse to occur. Having said that, the other day we were discussing what he wanted to do when he grew up (doctor, teacher, policeman). He said: “When I grow up I want to burn down a church”. Ummm….

        • The man I refuse to call my father will have no one to mourn his death. His entire family hates him. There will not be a funeral, there will not be a burial, there will be no claiming of his body. I suppose we may ask for proof to make sure the bastard is really dead but that’s it. They can send his rotten corpse to the county morgue to be cremated and buried with all the other people who no one cares to claim.

          He’s been an abusive pos my entire life and remains one to this day. He’s a diagnosed psychopath narcissist and extremely dangerous. The day he dies will be a good day. It’s a day I’ve been looking forward to for as long as I can remember, and that’s not an exaggeration. Some of my earliest memories are wishing he would die. What a relief it will be when he finally does.

          I can relate. People tell me I shouldn’t say things like that either, but when someone took pleasure in torturing and abusing you as a child there’s no reason for you to wish for anything else. Some people just don’t deserve to walk the earth.

          • You remind me of how I felt when my cheating alcoholic father died. We were estranged for 20 years before he died. He put me and my mother through hell. My thought was “Stick a stake in him, then throw him in the ground.”

            The only reason I attended his funeral was for my mother, my uncle who was his older brother, and my cousins. My mom would have been very upset if I hadn’t attended; no matter how he acted, by her standards, I should attend. And I did, and so did she, to support me.

        • Yeah the rewriting history thing…I had a best friend growing up that was dealt a shitty hand in the parent department. She basically lived with us on weekends, ate supper at our home every night and would accompany us on family vacations. After her mother and father divorced (junior high age) her mother (a miserable, angry bitch) decided the kids should all live with their crackpot violent father. After a few years the mother moved back, my friend moved in with her and all of a sudden she was “mother of the year”. Ok whatever… but they would criticize everyone…including my parents. My parents that never questioned her basically living with us and were quite generous with beach and ski vacations. Anyway we had a falling out the summer after we graduated from HS. About 14 years later she wrote a letter to my parents, thanking them for their kindness, generosity, etc. after her mother died. Her mother had a glowing obituary (definitely not deserved) and her father’s obit was complimentary as well but the photo was of him a toothless old man and he was actually a very good looking man at one time…so I often wondered if the horrible photo was deliberate.

      • I dare say, you need to eat a lot of beans, go visit your fathers grave marker, and make sure you bring some spray paint and toilet paper

        • 🤣🤣🤣
          Out of respect for the groundskeeper, I would just sprinkle a little tinkle.
          I saw on the news, a woman was arrested for interference with a corpse when she improperly disposed of a person’s cremains. Dumped them on pile of manure ? Can’t remember 🤣🤣🤣

  • To paraphrase someone far wittier than me.

    “Nothing but good should be said about the dead. Ex-Mrs LFTT is dead. Good.”

    LFTT

  • For my late mother, who set the tone for my future relationships:

    Mrs. A died after a long (some say too long) life of narcissistic abuse of her family.
    She lived for the chance to blame and shame anyone who couldn’t live up to her impossible standards, while never acknowledging or taking responsibility for her cruelty and lack of kindness to her five children.
    She was generous with gifts at the holidays, but she was even more generous with those gifts when friends would stop by with their own children. If a friend’s child saw a toy they wanted while playing with her children, they were given that toy to take home. So don’t get attached!
    She was the mother who kicked her unconscious 8-year old son awake after they fell 20 feet from a tree and made her young daughters put him in a wagon and pull him to the nearest hospital for a cast for his broken arm and to have his bitten nearly in half tongue stitched back together.
    Another child hid a broken arm for 3 days because they feared her anger more than the pain of their broken arm.
    She watched her 4-year old daughter being molested by teenagers and called her child “a dirty girl” while beating her. The child was then told that she would have to run back and forth to kindergarten every day unless she wanted that to happen again.
    This set the pattern for the younger children and when they were also sexually abused by various scout leaders and neighbors, they were told to shut up and never speak of it again.
    She never once hugged any of her 5 children or told them they were loved.
    The only time she touched them was when she couldn’t immediately find something to beat them with and had to use her feet and hands. But she did enjoy calling her oldest daughter into the bathroom to wash her when she was “so tired and weak” from drinking and watching television all day.
    Her favorite sayings were: “I’ll give you something to cry about!”, “I hate you!”, “I wish you were never born!” and “I wish you were dead!”.
    She was fond of incoherent shrieking and random acts of violence.
    God help you if you were sick or injured, because she wouldn’t.
    Somehow, she was able to elicit devotion from her children, and expected them to drop everything at once and come to her aid whenever she needed them to help her or go to the liquor store for more bottles of wine and whiskey. If you were at work and she wanted something, you were expected to be at her side within an hour regardless. You can always get another job, and besides, your job title isn’t impressive enough for her to brag about to her friends. After all her sacrifices, this is how you turned out? You’re an embarrassment to her.
    She was rude to store clerks and nurses, but priests and doctors thought she was a saint.
    She leaves behind 5 broken and dysfunctional adult children.

    • Your story makes me mad. I had a narcissistic father. When he died, I said to everyone that he was an asshole. My first wife turned out to be just like my father. A narcissist/BPD. Where was your father?

      • Where was my father? After work he headed straight to the bar and never got home until after we were asleep.
        Which was actually a good thing, because he was a fucking child molester.
        Always wondered what my mom was thinking to let him drive off with me on random occasions. Maybe she was glad he was “getting his needs met” elsewhere.
        He was also a cheater and they had some nuclear war level fights which included physical abuse on both sides.
        When he was dying, my mother wanted me to leave my young kids and move there to take care of him. Just the thought of touching him made me physically ill and I told her “no” and also told her that she knew why I couldn’t/wouldn’t. After she had a complete meltdown and screamed “that was a long time ago!”, she didn’t speak to me for months. It was bliss!

        • oldcrone,
          I am broken-hearted after reading your posts. No one deserves to have such horrific experiences as a child.
          The fact that you have grown to be an functioning adult is amazing. My sympathies don’t count for anything towards any healing but I want you to know how much I admire your honesty and strength. I’m so, so sorry.

          • I’m sorry my story hurt you😢, that wasn’t my intent.
            I know people shouldn’t compare their pain and experiences to others, but we all lived while so many other children do not survive their abuse. Those children weren’t able to make it through to a better life, and that’s a tragedy.
            My life as a child actually made me a better person than maybe I would have been without the bad things that happened.
            We were pretty well-off financially, and I think that some people who grow up with financial privilege don’t have a lot of empathy for others and their struggles.
            Plus my siblings are pretty supportive and kind, for the most part. We have each other’s back, one sister quipped, “like soldiers who went through a war together”.
            There’s much joy in my life now.

            • Oldcrone, I’m glad you posted this here. Both your parents were horrific. I’m sorry you had a cheating partner on top of that. And I’m glad you’ve found joy in your life.

    • Oldcrone, I am so sorry and you have my empathy. My mother was not an alcoholic but she was the daughter of a narcissist and had many of the same traits ingrained into her. She passed 4 weeks before I filed for divorce. I am considering writing her an obituary here.

    • “Crone” is a horrible name to give yourself. Perhaps you should be “Isurvived” because you did.

  • Good on Lawrence, Jr!

    No one is owed a syrupy, lying obituary when they hurt others so deeply in life.

    But, sorry, I’m in too good a mood today to ruin it with obits that would do my ex-mother and ex-spouse justice. They aren’t worth it.

  • My father died two months ago and I have yet to write an obituary because I can’t come up with anything nice to say. The people who sort of liked him think of him as half of a storybook romance – the young boy who fell in love with the married woman next door and proceeds to have a decades long affair with her.
    Eventually he marries someone else (my mother, whom he knocked up and had three kids with) but these “soul mates” were never able to keep their hands off each other. Chucking their combined 8 children out the window they run away together and eventually get married and live a long happy life together for the next 50 years. How sweet!!! The neighbours say! How devastating to be dealing with the 4 remaining kids and the resulting trauma of being abandoned by your parent.
    So no obituary, no funeral or service, selling his house to a land developer and walking away from that shit show to move on with my life. Thanks Dad.

    • The ex ran off with his soulmate girlfriend from school after 26 years with me. I feel your pain for your self, your siblings and your mother. It’s a whole different mind f##k to discover that you were always second best. It takes a lot of getting over. People who do this are cowards and nothing more.

      • My ex also ran off with his girlfriend from high school after 34 years with me. I call her his fantasy conquest. He cheated many many times during our marriage before he got back to her 2 years ago. She was still married too, but both deserted us spouses and ran.

        • This kind of ‘first love’ bullshit just confirms that they never developed mentally, emotionally or spiritually since that time, and to me it speaks to the fact that they absolutely peaked in high school and have secretly been living their life waiting to regain that feeling of being young, full of potential and at their so-called physical prime for all those years. Deluded in other words. What empty husks they are.

      • You were second best to an illusion. If it wasn’t that illusion there would have been another illusion to come along later. Your ex was just a weakling that preferred a dream to reality. Believe me when I say his illusion will soon (or already has) disappoint.

  • I do genealogy as a hobby and would have loved to come across an obituary like this. I think most of us would have loved to do an obituary like this for our abusers!

  • The coward & his smirk were burned to smithereens in the crematorium today. He leaves behind his faithful, loyal & loving ex-wife (whom he never appreciated) to live on happily ever after. He also leaves behind the other woman (whom he was cheating with on his then-wife). Whether OW lives on happily or not, we care not one whit since she assisted in blowing up the coward’s & ex-wife’s marriage. Also left behind are the coward’s children, leaving them a legacy of how to spectacularly blow-up a life where one had it all, but chose to turn his back on it for the easier life of a junk-food drive-thru. May his children heal, find lasting love, loyalty & honesty, and have the life their father should have provided for them, but sadly did not. Some people will live forever in our hearts, this isn’t one of them✌️

    • Wow, I love this more than I can tell you. Thank you for writing and our shared experience so spot on.

  • I like the obituary a lot.
    I am over the ones I know are a big fat lie.
    I recently spoke at a funeral for a parent. It took less than two minutes. Carefully edited, excruciatingly polite, truthful, not the whole ugly truth. Enough truth. I spoke no lies. I never used the word love. I used the word duty, and obligation, and community standing. I said life disappointed her frequently. Excellent code word. It pleased my siblings. We knew the truth. The whole truth.
    When it was over, my cousin asked for a copy for when her turn comes to speak.

    • I wrote the obituary for an uncle and spoke at the funeral in December, and frankly, it was easy. He was a thoroughly decent man with professional achievements and a humble attitude. The funeral was beautiful and inspiring.

      What you did is an honest option. I think I’ll just do something brief like you did or bow out in the future though if the person’s life was messy.

  • (Music by Terry Jacks, lyrics by UXworld)
    Tune at: https://youtu.be/bWdQbxNEFEs

    Goodbye to you, my cheating ex
    You tried convincing me that you hated sex
    You blamed me for your days of woe
    Found a different guy to blow
    Pegged him with a long dildo

    Goodbye, my ex, it’s time for calm
    And getting on with life with sweet aplomb
    Now that you’re just a memory
    I am finally fuckwit-free
    Child support now goes to me

    We would fight, we would fray, we had drama every day
    But the bullshit you gave will be compost on your grave

    • I don’t which is more impressive: your rewrite, or your encyclopedic knowledge of popular music! “Calm” and “aplomb”! “Woe,” “blow,” “dildo”!

    • Bravo, UX! I especially love the bullshit/compost line and the visual it prompts. A cheater finally contributing good and beauty to the world. (And now I have to go sit my maudlin ass down somewhere, sheesh.)

    • “We would fight, we would fray, we had drama every day.” This is now going to play in my head alongside memories of the ex …

    • I love this, and I would like to think that a full church choir would sing this, including boy soprano solo at the KK’s funeral.

  • First for her:
    Anxiety finally overwhelmed x-MrsTallOne when not enough men were available to console, care for and pay attention to her needs. Having been exhausted completely, she was found wrapped backwards over the victorian-era chaise, with all the appearance of a proper passing. Optics being of most-importance, X-MrsTallOne sure had the appearance of life-well-lived.., except for the important things like fidelity.

    Second for the old me:
    OldTallOne departed this world after a long-ish battle with passivity and cowardliness, more specifically, he was stepped on to death by those closest and most dear to him, specifically X-MrsTallOne. OldTallOne lived a life to please others, at the expense of exhausting himself in the process. This passing was a painful journey, but OldTallOne eventually excepted his fate. However, this passing gave birth the NewTallOne, a more confident and joyful being who still loves helping others but has learned about boundaries and expressing his needs.

  • There was never an obit written for my ex fw. At his request he was cremated and no service. Maybe that was the best thing.

    My son kept a small portion and said at some point he would do something with them in his honor. He didn’t know what, but said he would know when it hit him. He teased his wife and said, I may sprinkle some on “sara’s” pizza. (she had an extremely contensious relationship with fw and even more so whore). She had a funny look on her face, and I said “it is not all bad “sara” just think about where it goes in and where it will come out and you have the last laugh. She got a kick out of that. I think she really tried so hard to love fw; but he made it really hard.

    From what they told me it seems he was somewhat controlled while we were married in terms of things he said etc; but when he went into his second life, he just let it all out and became a flaming ass hole to everyone.

    He had lost everything he and I had worked for, so I guess; why not?

    He (as he grew older and sicker) was even making anti woman comments that even at his worst he never said to me. Crazy shit like “women should have to marry right out of high school and they shouldn’t work”

    I didn’t know about a lot of this until recently when she and I were having some long talks.

  • I read that story yesterday. What struck me at the end was the comment made by the publishing paper that they regretted not really reading it before publishing.

  • Not long after my cheating ex-husband left – (mercifully I was abandoned) – I read a recent widow’s post online, she was part of a veterans group. She candidly explained that all she felt when her husband died was relief. He’d been abusive and she’d stuck it out, trying to please him, make things work. No sorrow. Just relief. I hope any newly minted chumps out there who’ve been trying their hardest to make things work in the face of horrors might read this and understand, or realise that what they were going through was probably abuse if what they feel is relief not sorrow at a departure, whether thats the cheater moving on to the afterlife, or on into his secret double life with his co-worker! It can be so hard to understand these things when you’re living them. Hugs to all the newly minted chumps out there.

    • It is very hard to know how respond to all the people who ask how you’re doing/coping after your stbx takes his own life when all you want to say is how relieved you are to never have to be subjected to his abuse ever again. I usually just said “I’m managing” or “I’m doing okay”. After the shock wore off and I got through telling our young child his dad was gone (which sadly did not surprise him much), relief was all I felt. I felt like I could finally breathe. No more messy divorce, no more custody battles, no more stalking, no more threats, no more verbal abuse. My life got so much easier. At first I felt guilty about feeling like that, but I don’t anymore. I took enough shit from him when he was alive. I don’t need to take anything now that he’s gone. My kid speaks fondly of his dad, but even he is better off now. His anxiety and depression are gone.

  • Waste of Space was laid…in the ground somewhere (not really to rest) this weekend. He is survived by a son who was unfortunate enough to be born with WoS as a father and a wife who must have issues worse than him if out of all the men in the world he was the best she could find. But hey, if you’re willing to sleep with a man who has a girlfriend already and then maybe they deserved each other. And a mother who somehow managed to actually be a caring person.

    He leaves behind a legacy of smoking weed so much he had night sweats and nausea if he stopped for a single day (while claiming there’s no such thing as weed addiction) and a long list of complaints to his full-time employed mother and part-time employed, full time university student girlfriend about how he’s the only one who works hard in this place at an independent contracting job that only pays when he has a client. He is only barely mourned by his coworkers who aren’t nearly as skilled as he is and definitely don’t deserve the regular appointments they get from their existing list of clients and self-promotion on their media channels.

    A man of self-perceived great intelligence, he possessed the knowledge and discernment to determine when people of color were acting in such a way they deserved the moniker of his choice, typically a carefully selected word beginning with an N. His intellect so great and his moral compass so impeccable, any person who thought to match wits with him on why that was a really inappropriate and messed up, would be met with a quick instruction on history from him on both how people of color should be thankful that white people elected Obama and how his cousin was killed by a black man so he is beyond the bounds of common FUCKING decency, and need not concern himself on the social requirements of others to just not be racist.

    A rotund person with ample belly and fine crop of very…fine…(receding) hair he also possessed the ability, nay, the RIGHT, to become explosively angry at his partners who dared enter the public space wearing anything he had not approved of ahead of time, or wearing anything “attention grabbing” without him accompanying. The most observant of chaperones to ensure his girlfriend didn’t act like a slut in public. Because, possessing deep knowledge of all women’s minds and desires, he knew that is the truth of the only reason women ever dress up nice when they go out.

    While the exact means of his death are yet to be determined, it is suspected he wandered into the street while attempting to purchase another large sum of marijuana from the local dispensary, and was subjected to a spontaneous and unexpected castration via motor vehicle, and was left to bleed out on the road because nobody in particular gave much of a shyte about this man, and some did indeed view this as a favor to the world that even if he lived, at least he wouldn’t be able to father any more unfortunate children to grow up with the same garbage values as he.

    His epitaph reads “Here lies…this guy.” No other inscriptions.

    • Fantastic, Kara! And Waste of Space is a perfect moniker for such a pompous, misogynistic bigot.

      • Seriously. Even though he is not dead, I am very glad to be rid of him. One of my number 1 rules for partners now is there are absolutely no excuses for using racial slurs. I don’t care how intimidating they get. Being intimidated and terrified out of speaking up is no longer a thing. And no controlling my outfit choices with possessive sexism.

        Both of these things are deal breakers.

        • Klootzak didn’t start controlling my outfit choices, how I wear my hair (length and color!), etc. until after we were married. And looking back, it was so insidious. First it was “Oh, it looks so much nicer when you wear your hair (red/longer/with or without bangs, you name it),” and it graduated to “You wear too much black. You should stop wearing so much black.” Once he married me, he felt entitled to control everything. I was the frog in boiling water.

    • “A man of self-perceived great intelligence, ” This is awesome. Perfect for my ex Fraudster.

  • Love that he spoke truth instead of sugar coating. In my opinion, sugar coating never helps anything in any situation.

  • The man designated as “BP” in his ex-wife’s phone, for “Bad Penny” (because he kept turning up like one), or, alternately, “Bra and Panties” (because he was a fetish crossdresser/transgender woman wannabe), has died, although he has long been dead to his ex-wife, to whom he was married for thirty-six years before she divorced him. He will be mourned by two women close to him: his sister, with whom he formed a defensive bond in childhood against their alcoholic and abusive mother; and the ex-student with daddy issues who admired him disproportionately, unwisely, and unhealthily, and who encouraged him to “find his inner woman.” A third woman, a colleague on whom he was fixated, modeling on her his idea of the perfect woman he longed to be, may if she hears of his demise pause for a moment and think of the help he gave her when she was untenured, although she remains ignorant of his motivation and the part she played in his unsavory fantasies. His son, too, will mourn him, without any knowledge of his father’s secret life but having grown up in a household in which that secret life permeated the atmosphere.

  • I had a mother, she is now dead, full stop!

    My mother disowned my at 19 after years of abuse. My dad died when I was four, the man who became my stepdad moved in a month later, he was in prison by the time I was 11, mum couldn’t manage her emotions, was a prescription addict would get her point across with the use of a curtain rod. Divorced my stepdad by the time I was 16 and she did feel whole without a man so then came the long list of losers. You know the drill.
    7 years ago at age 43 I was called randomly by a total stranger to be told my mother was in palliative care and wanted to see me. I was told to expect nothing, that this random person was listed as her next of kin and I was not included in my mothers will. My mother was literally two streets from where I was living at the time. Stupidly I went to see her and quickly learned she was after money. I told her point blank I could not help her, what she did not know was at the time my marriage had ended and my daughter was being treated for cancer, I was her full time carer unable to work and had nothing. My mother then instructed me to remove a piece of paper from her purse. It was a piece torn from the top of a news paper with the date on it and in my mothers hand writing was the sentence, “My daughters are entitled to nothing but the expense of my funeral” with her signature. The next and last time I saw my mother was a week later on the night she died. Knowing she was gone I went home and phoned my estranged older sister to let her know our mother had died. Her only comment “good I am relieved”. With that she hung up and I have not heard from her since and do not expect to, as that is the legacy my mother left her children. Very few people know the story of my mother and when I’m asked about her I simply state.
    I had a mother, but she is dead now, full stop!

    • I too got a call from a total stranger – I was 37 and had just moved to a new town to start a second career (about 1200 miles from my narcissistic, abusive mother whom I hadn’t spoken to in years) – saying something similar. Apparently the consensus was that since I was single at the time and my golden child sister was married, it had fallen on me to care for my mother even though my sister was living in the same town. Despite the long dramatic tale of woe that my mother’s friend told me, I refused. This person then continued to tell me that as a good Christian, she had been doing favors for my mother for years, with the implication that I should now take up her mantle – I replied that I’m not a Christian (raised Jewish, now agnostic) and felt no obligation. After my mother died, my sister made sure that I didn’t find out for weeks afterward (she sent me fake updates on her condition that implied that she was being cared for in a nursing home), and the only reason I did find out was that I started getting sympathy cards. My sister took everything including the house; I was prepared for not being left anything in the will but I did ask for the crappy old piano that nobody ever played but me – she sold it all and I didn’t hear a thing from her until my next birthday when she sent me a card with a scathing note inside informing me that the entire family was disowning me for my supposed cruelty to my mother. I showed the card to my best friend who immediately remarked “You know, [your sister] gave you a gift” – which was the absolute truth, as I wouldn’t have gone to the memorial service anyway. If I had, I might have been tempted to blast everyone with the truth about my upbringing so it’s just as well.

  • When Cheater died this was really hard for me. Since he died so young (40) every person he ever met, went to school with, or worked with wanting to disclose how “special” he was, how wonderful, how kind, how tragic he died so young. Of course, I knew it was all bullshit as he never dealt with any of these people for the 15+ years I was with him. It took every fiber of self control I had to just be silent, they would stop me anytime I was out “oh we were sooooo sad to hear about it all, he was just soooo sweet and handsome, what a waste”. I learned to just smile, say thank you and move on. I made sure to never validate what they were saying. What surprised me was even the few that knew what a son of a bitch he was did the same thing. People just love getting second hand sympathy. I could have trashed his name, but at that point, for me, there was no point. He was dead (by his own hand) and I get to keep living a very happy life. The world was a brighter place minus him being in it and that’s the sad tragic truth.

    • “The world was a brighter place minus him being in it and that’s the sad tragic truth.”

      My father killed himself and I feel the same way.

    • One suspects some of those people, especially those that that knew him better, were baiting you to see what you would say. I guess they didn’t know you well enough to march up, and say, “Ah well, the SOB is dead, what a relief, eh?”. Glad you didn’t give them any entertainment, assholes.

  • The oozing rotting disease-infested carcass of Pretentious Lying Fuckwit was laid to rest in a sealed hazmat suit interred in a Superfund Site yesterday. Fuckwit was a highly accomplished liar and equivocator, noteworthy for having concealed his sexual identity so thoroughly he even managed to keep it a secret from himself, although apparently not from his wife. Fuckwit is grieved by the greater community of sex workers and traffickers in teenage boys. He has no surviving assets, but leaves behind a lifetime of unpaid debts, exhausted lines of credit, and credit card loans. The sole remaining potentially marketable asset is a trove of selfies he had saved and circulated from time to time, depicting his withered up junk and/or his stretched-out rectum. These will be offered to anyone seeking a memento of his time on earth, for a small fee (intended to offset funeral expenses).

  • My adult sons now refuse to have anything to do with their FW Father, the father that lived in the same house as them for a couple of years after D day but he hasn’t spoken to them in over 4 years & blames them for not talking to him!!!
    One of my sons asked if I would change my name back after the divorce, because if I did he would change his name to whatever mine was,
    that really touched me,
    FW was their Father but was never & never will be their Dad, I was a single parent while married to that FW for 27 years.

    • Same here. As soon as my son, the one on the autistic spectrum, moved into the rental home with me, he asked if after the divorce I would change my name back & could he, too.
      He rarely speaks, so this was very telling.

      • I changed mine, my DD changed hers to match mine ( she started asking for that at 9yo and actually had it done at 23 on her dime), my DS said he wasn’t going to change his name. He was going to change the legacy.

  • I actually DID write my ex’s obituary. I didn’t put anything scathing, but I also made no mention of the OW. I had to deal with all the “friends” of ours who had completely cut me off in favor of OW. I was civil to everyone, but have no desire for any further interaction with any of them. I also told OW point blank that she wasn’t welcome and if she showed up I’d have her escorted from the premises. Thankfully she stayed away, though she probably cried about it to anyone who would listen.

    Honestly I did the obit for his family and for my kid. It hurt them enough that he killed himself. He hadn’t spoken to his family in years and our son is only 9. I’ve healed and didn’t feel the need for petty revenge. All those “friends” still think he’s a great guy, and I have no need to try and correct them. I’m too busy with my new happy and peaceful life to care.

  • Whoops. I think I posted in the wrong thread a moment ago. I meant to post here!

    I revisited an earlier post and then decided to follow a link.

    Go here, read the blurb and hear how this grown woman, a writer, decided she couldn’t POSSIBLY “use her words” to tell her husband what she needed in her marriage and that some of it was distance from his family & friends/room for hers. No. She was JUSTIFIED.

    Dolt.

    https://www.smirk-book.com/p/the-perfect-little-brooklyn-life-212#details

    I wish her very private ex-husband were here to write her Fuckwit obituary.

    • Christie Smythe’s ex-husband is Devin Arcoleo if anybody in Brooklyn NY knows him and to steer him here for validation and support. The “I was married to/partnered with a cheating,abusive sociopath” Club.

  • My ex DID in fact die after the divorce was final. A drug overdose at the height of covid. There was no service. There was no obituary. He was cremated. We have two children who are ambivalent about his death. On some days they miss the Dad that he had been to them when they were very young. My daughter recently graduated from elementary school and cried because she realizes her father will miss all of her important life events going forward. It’s a mixed bag. I just couldn’t be bothered writing one at the time. His mother didn’t post any notice of his death either. It was like he vanished from the earth that quietly.

  • This invitation to write FW’s obit comes the morning after I watched a YouTube video by https://natashaswords.com/natashas-books/living-without-one-live-without/. She researched and compiled the complex stages following a death (which chumps also must go through).

    I realized how daunting grief can be and how unfair it is to have to go through it at the same time one is reeling from infidelity. I will never forgive him for forcing me to “pull the plug” on a marriage he killed.

  • This may not be that harsh. I am not giving her a pass I just realize that she is a product of a shitty childhood and no matter how much love and support I provided it could not overcome the damage.

    FW passed. She was born to a narcassistic father who abandoned her family to have another family when she was a toddler but would come in and out of her life to constantly disappoint. Her bipolar mother took her life with a shotgun when FW was 12 leaving a blaming note and her corpse in the bedroom. FW went to live with an uncle who she said attempted molestation, but now I realize it probably was more than an attempt. She was rescued by her step dad who fought the courts in NJ to get custody. This was in the 70s and He was a saint doing a great job raising her. She went on to become a nurse , married and was then abandoned by her husband. She would go on to meet and marry a man who loved her with all his heart. He provided her with everything she could ever want. They had a house in the south and an apartment in NYC. She became a minister of communion and a leader in her church. She had a beautiful talented son. None of this was enough. She began looking outside of her marriage living a secrete life of as a 56 year old band groupie /FB and Instagram glamour girl. She is leaves behind a beautiful, loving but confused 15 year old son. He who knows more than she could imagine, sees through her lies and is angry about her actions but will always love her. She is survived by an ex-husband who will always love who he thought he married. He mourns a woman that never existed and he will keep praying for her. She is also survived by has been that never were, over the hill, second rate, bar band members who used her. Please pray for her

  • Deranged cheaters are a challenge at the best of times but my exFiL was/ is off the chart. On the day of his mothers funeral, Granda was buried and then the memorial was held. He and my Ex MiL had been separated about 4 yrs at this point but she was gracious and attended the funeral despite the fact that the woman hated her. Grandma was also a challenge, the apple didn’t even fall from the tree I’m sure it was still attached somehow. Plus grandma had dementia for almost a decade before she passed. Ex FiL was late to the memorial which was not a surprise. Then when it finally got going we discovered he had invited three guests preacher to all take the stage one after the other. All of whom each gave no less than a 15 minute conversion sermon. Oh did I mention Ex FiL is religious!!!!!!!!! then came time for the eulogy, it was a generic time line of grandma’s life no emotion or warmth. My husband played the keyboard as hymns were sung, but we were all curious as to who the Dr listed as the last person to speak was, as non of as recognised the name. When the time came for this person to have their say my ex FiL took the stage and began to tell a story of a recent vision he had had and as a result of his faithfulness to this vision he now had a daughter. With that he introduced everyone to his daughter, a 30+ woman from Ghana. As she took the stage you could have heard a pin drop. She began by telling everyone that the first time she met grandma she stated “son you have introduced me to many women over the years but non have been this colour”. With this my then young son who is dark skinned compared to the rest of the family leans forward in his chair and asked in a loud whisper “ mum is that where I get my dark skin from.” As I shush him I sense my youngest brother in law stiffen beside me. You seriously cannot script this shit. Because she then went on to say that when she had asked grandma why she was so beautiful, grandma had said it was because she had honoured her mother and her father, so this woman then went on to then declare that just like grandma she and her brothers should honour father AND mother. No one new of this woman’s existence till she took the stage and now she was telling my husband and his brothers how to honour their parents. Unfortunately at this point I was overwhelmed by hysteria and began to laugh uncontrollably. I put my head in my hands and just went with it, there was nothing I could do as the tears rolled down my face. I don’t know if people could tell I was laughing, and I don’t care. It is a moment that will be etched in my memory forever.
    Later that day my son who was about 11 at the time quietly asked me if pop calling the woman daughter was code for something else. Out of the mouths of babies.

    • Sammie,

      I’m laughing. You’re absolutely right-this shit can’t be made up !

  • I don’t have an obit but it does strike me that I finally hit my breaking point to leave at a funeral. It was for a dear friend’s loving husband, who died far too young, and listening to her speak of him being so supportive and caring and wonderful…. It just was the final straw and I realized I would never even want to have a funeral for FW because he was never any of those things to me. I was broken when he met me and he shattered me. He built himself up on my back. And he was incapable of loving me and caring for me at all.

    • I had the thought so many times that I need to divorce klootzak before he has a stroke during one of his conniptions and I wind up being his nurse the rest of his life. There is nothing good to say if he passes. I would just cremate, no obit, no service, and go sprinkle the ashes in some random place. Him being gone would be a relief and I wouldn’t want to see or deal with his drama queen sister ever again. He has spent his whole life in self-worship; no need for a shrine to remember him when he’s gone.

      • There’s no need to nurse someone who is awful, imo, you reap what you sow. Put him in a VA home or have his beloved sister take him. Or put him in a care home in Portugal so his old lover can visit as often as she wishes. You can visit on holidays.

  • Porky Pig died last week in a tragic road rage incident. Those of us who knew him and knew his short-trigger temper don’t blame the other driver.

    The Pig was given all the opportunities in life one could hope for: loving parents and siblings, a stellar education, a fine, perceptive mind, three wives and at least two children. Sadly, he chose to abuse these gifts from the dark side.

    The career he might have had was ultimately destroyed by his lack of ability to get along with others. His subordinates’ complaints of bullying and drinking on the job ensured that he was overtly and covertly fired from every position he held.

    Wait staff and hotel clerks endured his endless rudeness and mistreatment. One wonders what things may have made their way into his food, drinks, and hotel rooms and how they didn’t kill him before now.

    Perhaps the biggest tragedy is the damage The Pig did to his children. The emotional wounds they suffered from being parented by a hypercritical, narcissistic father who openly and unapologetically favored his son over his daughter are real. But self-reflection and atonement were foreign concepts to him; he never once in his life said, “I’m sorry.”

    The world is now free of one more self-orbiting loser who contributed nothing to society and did nothing to help others in need. He died alone on the side of the freeway at the hands of someone who finally stood up to him.

    A GoFundMe page has been set up for the other driver’s defense fund.

  • Today, the world “lost” Pile O’Trash. Son of Mrs. Emotionally Incestuous, Passive Aggressive O’Trash and Mr. Original Cheater O’Trash. He is estranged from his only sibling and a niece and had only superficial friendships (“just-a-friend” types).

    He prided himself on doing the minimum to get by in his career in which he barely advanced after 25 years. He had many hobbies including golfing, running marathons, and running around on his ex wife, NoKibble4U (and it seems on his wifetress, Whoremelia O’Trash (nee: Whoremelia McCumDumpster)). He was excellent at fantasy football and fantasy marriage, a game where you can bench a spouse and put in another that will play prettier for you.

    Late in life, he was an ok Grandpa Daddy to his spawn when he wasn’t looking at NoKibble4U’s empty Classmates.com page – nearly a decade after he divorced her for Whoremelia.

    May God have mercy on his soul – or not, since he never repented for his adultery and emotional abuse.

  • This news story hit several of my buttons. I was delighted that someone spoke the truth. I hate the tradition of not speaking ill of the dead. Some do not deserve praise, and it is confusing to their victims to have to hear that BS.

    My father died last year. My mother’s brother gave his memorial presentation to a small gathering of immediate family. What audacity — to tell us who our father was and who he loved. We lived with him. He was not a hero, or extraordinary in any way. He was controlling, cruel, manipulative, and socially inappropriate at all times. His family was relieved he was gone, grateful for the peace. We did not want the “speech” but sat through it for the sake of my mother’s consistent duplicity and denial of the truth. She did not want other people to know what went on inside our home, and never acknowledged the mental trauma it cost each of her children, and her!

    My ex-husband died last fall. My sons grieve the father they wished they had. I went to his funeral, for their sake. It turned out more truth than BS came out at the funeral, couched in tactful and humorous light. Oh, what a character he was! So lucky for the other people there that they were not married to him. His much younger widow turned out in a short black dress, with full make-up and false eyelashes. Guess it’s never too early to troll for next husband????

    My mother lives in a world of her own, with dementia consuming her now. She was as good a mother as I think she was capable of being, considering her FOO background, and young marriage to my terrible dad. But all the good is gone from her now, dementia has crippled her mind, and stolen her memories. When she says cruel and inappropriate things, usually to me, her caregiver, others say “that’s the disease, she’s still your mother.” Don’t think that is consoling to hear. It’s not. Acknowledgement of the hurt and difficulty is much more consoling. She was far from perfect in life, but I do not want to write her obituary. I do love her, but I refuse to sugarcoat the truth.

    I just do not have it in me any more to condone social niceties. Maybe I have become a “Bitter Bunny”? I don’t think so, I find joy in other areas of my life, but I despise the pious eyes to heaven fake sympathy displays of the world. I think it was Sgt. Friday from a long-ago police tv show who said, “I want the facts, just the facts.”

    • I agree. I have always been uncomfortable with the American funeral tradition of open casket, folks milling around etc. I had spoken my desire when I was young that I didn’t not want an open casket no matter what, and if folks wanted to have a memorial service do it after I was interred.

      This was in the years before cremation was becoming more acceptable, back then it was done primarily for paupers.

      My son did the gravesite service for my brother and his wife and the only ones present were my son, his wife, my husband, my brothers dog and the cemetery curator. Her (brothers wife) sister couldn’t come that far because she and her husband both are in really bad health. We took pictures, and my son sent her his service notes. She did not want to view the service.

      My brother and his wife died in TX and his funeral was in Arkansas by my mother. Because of Covid delays, it was ten months after they died. All of their friends were even older than them, and any living relatives were many states away. I kept their remains with me until we could do the service. I kept a few ashes of my brothers to do something with later. I adopted his dog and if he pre deceases me; I will combine the ashes and have them put at my brothers site. My son will likely do it for me.

      But, it was a beautiful service and honest. Which was pretty easy because my brother and his wife were fine folks who had been married for 51 years and died on the same day a few hours apart. We honored their faith, and played the two songs they requested.

      I think of my brother every day, sometimes laugh and sometimes cry. I am sure his wife’s sister does the same thing.

  • Personally I think it’s bullshit to suggest that anyone that believes in forgiveness is a forgiveness troll. Hey, if he had to do this for his own healing, then all the power to him. It speaks to the depths of his pain and I’m not going to judge him or anyone for saying what they need to say. That said, I think encouraging the piling-on regarding these sad and pathetic cheaters after they die is sad in itself. They’re dead like we all will be sooner than we think. My cheater ex is still the mother of my kids, and the thought of them reading something like from me directed toward their mother would be devastating not only for them, but for me.

    • The children were hurt when the cheater broke up the family. Hearing the truth spoken won’t hurt them more than experiencing the event. I don’t think it’s good to teach them to rewrite history and protect the image of a narcissistic abuser or other toxic cheater. Once they’re adults, they deserve the truth about what happened in their lives.

      • Nice strawman. Did I say that or does it just feel good twisting my words into something you can bash? Clearly I said nothing about hiding truth from kids or teaching them to rewrite history. My kids know exactly what happened…in fact, one of the contingencies of our separation was for her to acknowledge her affair as the reason for our break which she did. But, if telling the truth equates to writing a bitter obituary as if it’s something to be taken lightly, I’m no thanks. I’ve got better things to do with the new life I’m rocking with a new partner.

        • I don’t think Rural Chump was bashing you or posing a strawman, but was just giving an opinion on the topic in general.

          I tend to agree that it’s classless to give somebody a nasty obit. As a general rule I don’t believe in publically accusing somebody who is not able to defend him/herself. It’s unfair because how do we know for sure that the person making the accusation is telling the truth? Even if they are assholes, they still have the right to face their accusers and refute the accusations if they can.
          IMO if they are that bad they deserve no obit at all, anyway. But I get why the idea is appealing and it doesn’t bother me if other people do it. It’s just not for me. I feel like that’s what you were saying too- not that you have a problem with somebody else doing it, but that it wouldn’t feel right for you.

    • A forgiveness troll is somebody who insists others should forgive their tormentors, not just somebody who believes in forgiveness.

  • This reminds me of the brutal obituary written by the children of abusive party animal/cheater Kathleen Dehmlow a number of years ago. Basically, the obit said that “she would not be missed by the children she had abandoned”, “the world is a better place without her“ and now, it was time for her to “face judgment“.

    Ha ha, no one would dare ask me to write an obituary for XH because they know what I’ll say. But I’m sure AP Married Howorker will conjure up some glowing papier-mâché accolades about what a wonderful second husband he was. Whatever…

    • That is why I am glad whore can’t afford to do up a memorial of any kind. My son would feel obligated to go and sit there and listen to a glowing report of what a great husband and father he was.

      Don’t get me wrong he had a few years until my son was about 12ish that he really tried and did a decent job. So I am glad my son has a few good memories. But then he turned to whores for his thrills. He was horrible to me and quite frankly once he married her and didn’t have to give her money and gifts to keep her quiet, he was no better to whore. Only difference is she deserved it.

      My first husband (FW) died when I found out who he really had been for years, or more likely he never really existed. But that guy that died last year, I never knew him. I think my son looks at it the same way.

  • On this beautiful Northwest day, Rat has limped and mooched his way into the afterlife. A man from a poor sad family, abandoned by his father at 8, raised by a kind poverty stricken single chumped Mother, found another woman to support him so he could live a life he dreamed of. Genetics won and he squandered his relationship with his sons and a 30 year marriage for a young woman wanting a sugar daddy. His carnal instincts overshadowed whatever feelings he had for his family. He live the last years of his life mooching off yet another woman while professing shameful, self pity and guilt about how he thrown his life away for a piece of ass. Somehow trying to convince everyone it was not his fault. He tried desperately to resolve the conflict with his sons. But the damage had been done and what was left of their relationship was in tatters with little ability to mend. Now as he goes up in flame, we send him on his way with wishes our tormented memories and pain also rise and incinerate so we may be free of this pathetic excuse for a partner and father. Good riddance.

  • This one is for x cheater, and a lot lighter in tone compared to my previous post:

    X is gone from this earth after drinking, eating and fucking himself to death.
    He is missed by no one except for the random bar flies he lavished money on and the many liquor stores, bars and restaurants that fed his addictions.
    He was never able to establish a church dedicated to his belief that he is the living embodiment of the divine, so there will be no service.
    Sadly, he was cremated so anyone who was harmed by him will not be able to piss on his grave.
    But feel free to ask for some cremains to desecrate as you see fit.
    In lieu of flowers, please donate to the charity of your choice. That will be the first time that x does anything for others without expecting something in return.

    • Yep ridiculous how much they cost.

      We found out when my brother and his wife died that many folks don’t even do them in print anymore. Our Crematory did theirs on their website and we posted where we wanted and sent it to whomever we wanted.

      As folks get older and in our case lived so far away, they are pretty much unneeded anymore. Most folks our age can’t travel across the country anymore for anything, much less a funeral. Most funeral homes/services do them on their sites as part of the package.

      From my view at age 72 the American funeral is changing rapidly. Quite frankly it is about time. Way too expensive for the average family.

      I know how folks view cremation is changing too. Used to be frowned upon and now many are requesting it. My ex fw did. My brother and his wife did and my husband and I have already written our request out, sent it to our kids and bought our final resting place at our church.

      Small gravesite service and done.

      I know many of the surviving funeral homes are trying to monetize what they can, but they are pretty much losing that battle. I am sure they are trying to get laws past to regain control; but I don’t think folks are going to stand for it.

      When I did my brother and his wife’s obit, I stated that in lieu of flowers to please donate to your favorite animal shelter.

      My brother and his wife loved their cats and dog and they donated a lot of money and food to their local shelter; so I think they would have liked that.

  • This may be one of the few places to get a free obituary “published.” So let it all out, Chumps!

    Seriously, I had sticker shock when my mom died. We did put an obituary in, but made it brief after finding out the cost. She was emotionally abusive, sincerely unknowingly, I believe, because of autistic-like tendencies. My dad has some autistic-like characteristics too. My son has diagnosed autism. When I read about the characteristics, I recognized them in my parents. It was not easy growing up in that house but there was no deliberate abuse or neglect. My mom’s actual death & funeral were difficult because of that huge gap between what other people thought of her, or assumed of her, & what I experienced living with her as I grew up. I am sad to say her death brought much relief because I didn’t have to find ways of dealing with that discrepancy.

    When I think if an obituary for XH, I can’t find the anger anymore now that I am safely away from his abuse. He’s not my responsibility anymore, but if an obit was up to me, I would not spend the money.

    I’m feeling a little emotional today & don’t feel snarky at the moment.
    Maybe after work I’ll try one, just to get it out while it’s free!

  • Ok, ready to try now….
    This might be my obituary for him.

    Joe Schmoe passed away in his sleep Wednesday, July 6, 2022. He was known throughout the community for his generosity, love of sports, and all around good nature. He was a great neighbor to many.
    He leaves behind Jane Doe, his former wife of 35 years, and four sons and daughters.

    Visitation is set for Saturday evening July 9 from 7 pm to 7:15 pm, in the Poor Souls Parish church basement. The funeral will be at Poor Souls Parish on July 12 at 10 am.
    Donations to the Victims of Domestic Abuse Shelter, Poor Souls Funeral Expense Fund, Survivors of Cervical Cancer STI Fund, or to We Stand Behind Adult Children with PTSD, are requested by the family in lieu of flowers.

    • The family’s request for donations to those specific organizations really spells it out without having to say it directly. Brava. Given the opportunity, I will do that.

  • FW passed away last week from a sexual misadventure. Unfortunately his long-term partner was also injured in the incident. He was known by several monikers in his various communities, but best known by his chosen nickname, The Master of his Domain. He will be remembered by his loyal subjects as someone who was in command of all his endeavors. A service will be held at his favorite local bar, Whips and Chains, where his business partner, Dom, will delivery the eulogy. She’s asking that attendees wear their leathers in honor of the event. His estranged daughter, who will be unable to attend, is asking that in lieu of flowers, to kindly make donations to the local women’s refuge for victims of sexual violence, or to her own personal university tuition fund that her father forgot to contribute to. May he Rest In Peace knowing the few survivors left are brave enough to keep going.

  • My father was a WWII vet and a good man but as he had me at 40 he was dead by my mid 40’s but my Mom is now in her 90’s. A abusive narcissist. She lives alone and will die alone. She discarded me right after my dad died. I know already my part of my inheritance from them is going to my ex-fuckwit, he felt so bad about it I have a clause in my divorce that her money goes to me. Anyway going no contact with her set me up to realize I was being abused by my exhusband who she ADORED. I don’t need her and I certainly don’t need him. My kids have not seen her since they are 9 and 11. They don’t care because they have not seen his family either. I can’t wait to write the nasty obit. I am feeling MIGHTY.

  • Ashes to ashes and dust to dust
    He ended with a final thrust
    And was pried from his final office thot
    By three EMTs in a parking lot
    To be carted away quite moribund
    As poor and naked as he’d begun
    No more wife and children to forsake
    No marital assets to peculate
    No swank hotels beyond his means
    No top shelf swinging singles scenes
    No bistros off the Zagat’s guide
    And no one left to hear his lies
    And no one left to hang their head
    Or bother to speak ill of the dead
    Though Perelistas may clap and crow
    “Three cheers” and “What a way to go!”
    What all may fail to register
    Is that not only his climax was premature
    Because, you see, statistically
    (just getting a tiny bit science-y)
    More cheats croak from cardiopathy
    Than simps mating in captivity
    So alone alone but not at home
    Thus endeth dogs with surfeit bone

  • He lied. And now he lies here. (I wish this was an original. But i read it somewhere and have never forgotten it. So perfect)

  • Here’s FW’s obit:

    FW died. I feel sorry for my son losing his father but that’s about it. FW lived his life as a selfish piece of shit with zero empathy. Not much else to say about a life lived poorly.

  • I wish I could have written my father’s obit. He too was a family abandoner, alcoholic (sober for 25+ years) who cared only about his AA friends, his 2nd wife, his married girlfriend (he died having sex with her—she was mortified to call the ambulance as her husband was still alive, albeit with severe Alzheimer’s). People came up to me at his funeral (which I got stuck paying for) to tell me what a great guy he was. I said “thank you, but I have no good memories of him.”

    My x walked out at the beginning of our son’s senior year of high school—for a relationship with a drug using prostitute. He’s been completely absent since, and hasn’t seen our sons in a year. They can’t stand him. The father they knew is gone: replaced by a smoking, vaping, weed and alcohol/substance abusing, creepy porn addiction, pristitute frequenter. He gambles, lies.

    His imaginary obit, written by me, would read:
    A self centered a$$hole who put his addictions and himself above his family. A father in name only, who lived to lie, punish and exist on transactional relationships. A man who set the example of what misogyny is. A sulky, road rage jerk who could make any family event into a stress filled, bore fest. He had no interests other than his addictions, couldn’t feign interest or concern in things that didn’t revolve around himself. His last years were spent in a blur of inebriation surrounded by hookers and drug addicts. He’s missed only by the ones he’s been paying and they’ll find a new replacement quickly.

    • My ex left the second time some months after the youngest graduated from high school. He hasn’t seen them face-to-face in five years. After the initial shock and trauma, they gave up on him and closed that chapter. They would literally walk out of the room if I brought him up. Prior to that, he was indeed a difficult father, not terribly engaged with our offspring as it was and frequently impaired. In the later teen years, they would beg me to leave him at times.

      Of course, he says it’s my fault, and at times he shames them in the cards he sends. Definitely still in denial…

  • Here lies Trash-Eating Goat, who turned out to not be magically immune to all disease, despite being among the most advanced, benevolent, and evolved humans alive, as shown by his constant search for new women to share his boundless “love” with, out of the kindness of his heart, for their benefit, due to his godlike skill at sex.

    He is survived by at least a few children that we know of, his ex-wife who now lives in a beautiful home having mimosa brunches every Sunday, his dominatrix who will miss his wallet very much, and assorted lesser companions. In lieu of flowers, the family asks for donations to domestic violence and children’s mental health charities.

  • I don’t know what to say about him right now, but I can tell you that I have expressly forbidden Little Hammer (my daughter) to write an obituary for me that includes the phrase “she lit up the room.”

    She does have permission to say that the room could instantly become scary and dark if I was really pissed off about something.

    Desi Arnaz cheated cheated cheated on the extremely beautiful talented funny and brilliant Lucille Ball. I heard he was alone with their daughter Lucie when he died. Very forgiving of her. Traitor X will likely not be as fortunate.

    If Scott Peterson and Chris Watts can get a woman to fall in love and write to them, I’m sure Traitor X will have no trouble finding a dope who buys his bullshit. As PT Barnum said, there’s a sucker born
    every minute and whoever she is can write it. I spent 27 years writing a story about him which I sold myself every day and I am out of ink.

    • it’s so healthy to fully understand who the X/traitor X is, but then there’s the death of optimism. it’s a weird one to process. i’m glad to fully understand (i think) what the score is and not write a story about them anymore. now’s the time to write stories about ourselves.

      that said, there are specific realizations that i don’t quite know how to process. for instance, on one dark night, my X said some really hurtful things that do not bear repeating because i’ve done the EMDR and now they’re dealt with, but i’m still no sure how to process that fact that my X had an erection while he said the meanest, meanest things to me. an erection. WTF?

      • He sounds like a sexual sadist, DIFBTBAC, one who gets off sexually on inflicting emotional pain. Good thing he’s out of your life. Total sicko.

        My sicko got an erection just from me scathingly reading the titles of the violent, misogynistic porn I found out he was using. I can’t ever unsee that. They are vile!

  • Sparkledick Chumperson’s ego exploded last week after a decades long battle with his entitlement. No other fuckwits were injured, but the fire department is taking every precaution given the prevalence in the community of middle-aged, married persons staring into the abyss.

    He is survived by his very special friends: the office crack whore, 3 millennials with selfie filter upgrades, his flock of desperate singletons (reliable for sympathy and social media likes), 3 dozen catfish accounts on IG, porn hub and tequila.

    In lieu of flowers, please donate to your favorite youth sports organization to offset the devastation Mr. Chumperson (and his ilk) inflicted upon his bewildered children. His beautiful wife Chumpy (whom he effectively widowed in 2008) will be unable to attend the services because she is “just so mean”.

  • While there’s some dark humor value in the obit, I also find it somewhat cringe-worthy.
    Of course while it would be difficult to attend a funeral and listen to compliments, the other alternative is to put out a very simple/basic death notice and forego the funeral all together. Wouldn’t that be more the definition of “meh”?
    Sorry if that makes me a buzz kill on the topic…and I certainly don’t consider myself an apologist. But at the end of the day, I don’t want any of that vitriol inside me…and I certainly wouldn’t want to be interviewed by major networks to dredge all of that back up.
    Seems in that regard this was a fail..and a fruitless shot across the bow when the enemy is already dead. But if that’s what was needed to help in healing then I hope they each find that.

  • Around the time of my divorce I remember having an epiphany that it was like mourning a death. I also learned to come to terms with the fact that the woman whom I thought was my wife for 15 years never really existed. She had been leading a secret life all of those years, which she ultimately chose as her real life. Now when I occasionally see my ex at school events I feel as though I’m seeing a ghost — a ghost that I choose to ignore. It’s very much like that movie “The Sixth Sense”. I see dead people.

  • “Today we gather to commemorate J, a gleefully Macchiavellian man whose charm, intellect and talents were fully at the service of his weak moral compass. Expedience was his watchword. During his extensive work travels, he felt entitled to the exclusive services of “a wife in every port”. He enlisted each woman by carefully concealing his existing engagements or marriages to other women. His children by at least two mothers probably won’t miss him much because his brother has had to step in as their primary father figure from infancy onward. His many ex-partners, who had to struggle to free themselves from his miasmic jungle of lies and deception, will be mildly amused to hear that he died of a heart attack when discovered by wife number 4 while he was schtupping his boss in order to get a promotion. Speaking of which, the funeral home has requested that no more “Singing Bag of Dicks” be sent in lieu of flowers; the 23 that have turned up are disturbing people in the adjacent chapels”.

    • “the funeral home has requested that no more “Singing Bag of Dicks” be sent in lieu of flowers; the 23 that have turned up are disturbing people in the adjacent chapels”.
      🤣

  • I live in Jacksonville. Couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw this obit. Although at first glance it is rather scathing, the piece is rather well written and honest. It takes courage to tell this kind of truth. My hat is off to the author. 👏🏻 👏🏻 👏🏻

  • Funny that. I divorced my alcoholic husband after I contemplated having to write his obituary and empty the dozens of hidden empty bottles out of the house.

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