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(Jacksonville.com)   Florida Man gets an obituary that might be too harsh for Florida Man   (jacksonville.com) divider line
    More: Florida, Alcohol abuse, Lawrence H Pfaff Sr., Alcoholism, Love, English-language films, Addiction, alcohol addiction, young age  
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6940 clicks; posted to Main » on 06 Jul 2022 at 5:30 AM (5 weeks ago)   |   Favorite    |   share:  Share on Twitter share via Email Share on Facebook



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View Voting Results: Smartest and Funniest


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2022-07-05 10:29:49 PM  
I think his kids can be the judges of whether its too harsh or not.
 
2022-07-05 11:00:07 PM  
Larry sounds like a shiat.
 
2022-07-06 5:27:40 AM  
We maybe need more of obits like this.
 
2022-07-06 5:40:35 AM  
He is up in heaven now.
 
2022-07-06 5:42:26 AM  

Clash City Farker: He is up in heaven now.


Listening to God get though the book of reason why Larry is going to Hell.
 
2022-07-06 5:50:52 AM  
I feel sorry for Larry Jr.
 
2022-07-06 6:06:36 AM  
How dare his ungrateful children defile the thin blue line. He was a Hero in BlueTM

/an alcoholic misogynistic abusive cop. Color me surprised
 
2022-07-06 6:09:15 AM  
And this isn't Florida Man.

It's an asshole NYPD. Stop blaming Florida for the rest of the country's trash.
 
2022-07-06 6:13:29 AM  
Golly, don't hold back tell us what you think
 
2022-07-06 6:21:19 AM  
His grave is easy to find. It's the one with the toilet-shaped headstone
 
2022-07-06 6:22:11 AM  
Fark user imageView Full Size
 
2022-07-06 6:27:08 AM  
That's nothing compared to the obituaries we'll see for the other Florida man, angry orange.
 
2022-07-06 6:34:48 AM  
You may notice the "Send Flowers" button in the upper right corner. The family recommends you send something wilted or the "Exquisite Tribute Standing Spray - Yellow Ribbon I Piss On Your Grave" special arrangement.
 
2022-07-06 6:38:51 AM  
A cop who was also a piece of shiat??!
 
2022-07-06 6:44:47 AM  

indylaw: A cop who was also a piece of shiat??!


Inconceivable!
 
2022-07-06 6:47:43 AM  
Well,
I suppose that Darwin gets the last laugh, as the late Mr. Pfaff was (as is exhaustively pointed out multiple times in the obituary), wildly successful in passing on his genes.

He probably got more play than all of his bitter and resentful children, put together.

/r-strategists for the win.
 
2022-07-06 6:52:16 AM  

Clash City Farker: He is up in heaven now.


no he's not.
 
2022-07-06 6:53:04 AM  

Mega Steve: His grave is easy to find. It's the one with the toilet-shaped headstone


hee hee
 
2022-07-06 6:54:51 AM  

Kriggerel: Well,
I suppose that Darwin gets the last laugh, as the late Mr. Pfaff was (as is exhaustively pointed out multiple times in the obituary), wildly successful in passing on his genes.

He probably got more play than all of his bitter and resentful children, put together.

/r-strategists for the win.


The score is not about how many kids you sire, it is how many children attend your funeral, and cry, and will always miss you. Daddy is a title earned, not made.
 
2022-07-06 7:09:08 AM  

skinink: Clash City Farker: He is up in heaven now.

Listening to God get though the book of reason why Larry is going to Hell.


chick.comView Full Size
 
2022-07-06 7:15:37 AM  
Too bad he wasn't at the Twin Towers.
 
2022-07-06 7:17:09 AM  

Kriggerel: Well,
I suppose that Darwin gets the last laugh, as the late Mr. Pfaff was (as is exhaustively pointed out multiple times in the obituary), wildly successful in passing on his genes.

He probably got more play than all of his bitter and resentful children, put together.

/r-strategists for the win.


If his children don't reproduce, his genes don't get passed on.  That's a loss.
 
2022-07-06 7:18:10 AM  
Dad?
 
2022-07-06 7:25:09 AM  
That said, here is your eulogy, Mom.

When I was born, I almost died. When I was small, and yours, I looked up to you. I followed you around, until you'd lock me outside. When you locked me in my room while you watched soap operas, you told me it was because you didn't want my little brother to break my toys.

When you turned me and little brother out of the house, you told me to watch him, and that if anything happened to him it was my fault and I would go straight to hell. One day, we found some returnable pop bottles in their little case on the corner and we threw them in the street and laughed, until a lady screamed at us and we ran away. I later saw a Little Rascals short on tv and some kids did the same thing. It was fun . When little brother and I were sitting on the backyard stoop, next to the wildflowers you planted, a bee stung him, and he cried and you made me pray by the side of his bed, because I should pray until God took me to Hell, while he laughed joyfully because his big sister was paying so much attention to him. When I got stung by a bee, I pulled the stinger out. About a year later, I was sitting atop our fence when I fell off, landing on my head. I briefly blacked out, staggered into the house, and told you what had happened. You yelled at me, told me I was stupid, and told me to lie on the couch and not to go to sleep or I would die. Then you left to prepare dinner. I had a lump the size of a chicken egg on my temple and I did not want to die, so I did not fall asleep.

I could go on, about how frightened I was to send my three-year-old little girl to visit with you for a week, and how happy I was that she came home telling me about all the arts and crafts that Grandma had taught her. I could go on about how nice you seemed as you grew older. I could talk about how sorry I was when you grew senile and you no longer knew who you were, or who Daddy was, or who your grandaughter or I was. In fact, you thought you were seventeen, and your mom and dad would be so angry with the bad man who kept you from going home and made you sleep in the same bed with him. Despite a heavy front door with a loud alarm on it, you would leave the house in the middle of the night and Daddy would wake up, and the most tragic slow-motion escape and pursuit would ensue.

I could talk about your last night on this earth, when Daddy woke us up to tell us that you had died, and I could tell you about the long wait for the coroner's van, and how the coroner's assistants zipped you up in that green rubber bag and I kissed you on the forehead, which is something you never did to me and how they rolled you out to the wagon and I never saw you again. Or I could tell you how much I loved that you encouraged me to read, and told me that Daddy had written stories too, and that I missed having a mother who actually liked me.

I could tell you all of this, but it is too late. You are gone. Rest in peace, mom.
 
2022-07-06 7:25:37 AM  
This serves no purpose at all, other than to allow his family to vent. How about if you just write no obituary at all and move on with your life. He's gone and all of his faults with him as we all will be at some point.
 
2022-07-06 7:25:51 AM  

I Swear I'll Jump: That said, here is your eulogy, Mom.

When I was born, I almost died. When I was small, and yours, I looked up to you. I followed you around, until you'd lock me outside. When you locked me in my room while you watched soap operas, you told me it was because you didn't want my little brother to break my toys.

When you turned me and little brother out of the house, you told me to watch him, and that if anything happened to him it was my fault and I would go straight to hell. One day, we found some returnable pop bottles in their little case on the corner and we threw them in the street and laughed, until a lady screamed at us and we ran away. I later saw a Little Rascals short on tv and some kids did the same thing. It was fun . When little brother and I were sitting on the backyard stoop, next to the wildflowers you planted, a bee stung him, and he cried and you made me pray by the side of his bed, because I should pray until God took me to Hell, while he laughed joyfully because his big sister was paying so much attention to him. When I got stung by a bee, I pulled the stinger out. About a year later, I was sitting atop our fence when I fell off, landing on my head. I briefly blacked out, staggered into the house, and told you what had happened. You yelled at me, told me I was stupid, and told me to lie on the couch and not to go to sleep or I would die. Then you left to prepare dinner. I had a lump the size of a chicken egg on my temple and I did not want to die, so I did not fall asleep.

I could go on, about how frightened I was to send my three-year-old little girl to visit with you for a week, and how happy I was that she came home telling me about all the arts and crafts that Grandma had taught her. I could go on about how nice you seemed as you grew older. I could talk about how sorry I was when you grew senile and you no longer knew who you were, or who Daddy was, or who your grandaughter or I was. In fact, you thought you were seventeen, and your mom and ...

 
2022-07-06 7:27:52 AM  

I Swear I'll Jump: That said, here is your eulogy, Mom.

When I was born, I almost died. When I was small, and yours alone, I looked up to you. I followed you around, until you'd lock me outside. When you locked me in my room while you watched soap operas, you told me it was because you didn't want my little brother to break my toys.

When you turned me and little brother out of the house, you told me to watch him, and that if anything happened to him it was my fault and I would go straight to hell. One day, we found some returnable pop bottles in their little case on the corner and we threw them in the street and laughed, until a lady screamed at us and we ran away. I later saw a Little Rascals short on tv and some kids did the same thing. It was fun . When little brother and I were sitting on the backyard stoop, next to the wildflowers you planted, a bee stung him, and he cried and you made me pray by the side of his bed, because I should pray until God took me to Hell, while he laughed joyfully because his big sister was paying so much attention to him. When I got stung by a bee, I pulled the stinger out. About a year later, I was sitting atop our fence when I fell off, landing on my head. I briefly blacked out, staggered into the house, and told you what had happened. You yelled at me, told me I was stupid, and told me to lie on the couch and not to go to sleep or I would die. Then you left to prepare dinner. I had a lump the size of a chicken egg on my temple and I did not want to die, so I did not fall asleep.

I could go on, about how frightened I was to send my three-year-old little girl to visit with you for a week, and how happy I was that she came home telling me about all the arts and crafts that Grandma had taught her. I could go on about how nice you seemed as you grew older. I could talk about how sorry I was when you grew senile and you no longer knew who you were, or who Daddy was, or who your grandaughter or I was. In fact, you thought you were seventeen, and your mom and ...

 
2022-07-06 7:28:18 AM  

I Swear I'll Jump: I Swear I'll Jump: That said, here is your eulogy, Mom.

When I was born, I almost died. When I was small, and yours, I looked up to you. I followed you around, until you'd lock me outside. When you locked me in my room while you watched soap operas, you told me it was because you didn't want my little brother to break my toys.

When you turned me and little brother out of the house, you told me to watch him, and that if anything happened to him it was my fault and I would go straight to hell. One day, we found some returnable pop bottles in their little case on the corner and we threw them in the street and laughed, until a lady screamed at us and we ran away. I later saw a Little Rascals short on tv and some kids did the same thing. It was fun . When little brother and I were sitting on the backyard stoop, next to the wildflowers you planted, a bee stung him, and he cried and you made me pray by the side of his bed, because I should pray until God took me to Hell, while he laughed joyfully because his big sister was paying so much attention to him. When I got stung by a bee, I pulled the stinger out. About a year later, I was sitting atop our fence when I fell off, landing on my head. I briefly blacked out, staggered into the house, and told you what had happened. You yelled at me, told me I was stupid, and told me to lie on the couch and not to go to sleep or I would die. Then you left to prepare dinner. I had a lump the size of a chicken egg on my temple and I did not want to die, so I did not fall asleep.

I could go on, about how frightened I was to send my three-year-old little girl to visit with you for a week, and how happy I was that she came home telling me about all the arts and crafts that Grandma had taught her. I could go on about how nice you seemed as you grew older. I could talk about how sorry I was when you grew senile and you no longer knew who you were, or who Daddy was, or who your grandaughter or I was. In fact, you thought you were seventeen ...

 
2022-07-06 7:29:00 AM  
Please excuse my triple post. I am a woman of very little brain.
 
2022-07-06 7:29:36 AM  

Mega Steve: His grave is easy to find. It's the one with the toilet-shaped headstone


I thought there would be a feedin' to the 'gators ceremony after testimonials.
 
2022-07-06 7:29:44 AM  
BTW, how the hell do we delete our posts?
 
2022-07-06 7:31:38 AM  
He sounds like father of the year compared to my genetic donor.
 
2022-07-06 7:33:49 AM  

I Swear I'll Jump: That said, here is your eulogy, Mom.

When I was born, I almost died. When I was small, and yours, I looked up to you. I followed you around, until you'd lock me outside. When you locked me in my room while you watched soap operas, you told me it was because you didn't want my little brother to break my toys.

When you turned me and little brother out of the house, you told me to watch him, and that if anything happened to him it was my fault and I would go straight to hell. One day, we found some returnable pop bottles in their little case on the corner and we threw them in the street and laughed, until a lady screamed at us and we ran away. I later saw a Little Rascals short on tv and some kids did the same thing. It was fun . When little brother and I were sitting on the backyard stoop, next to the wildflowers you planted, a bee stung him, and he cried and you made me pray by the side of his bed, because I should pray until God took me to Hell, while he laughed joyfully because his big sister was paying so much attention to him. When I got stung by a bee, I pulled the stinger out. About a year later, I was sitting atop our fence when I fell off, landing on my head. I briefly blacked out, staggered into the house, and told you what had happened. You yelled at me, told me I was stupid, and told me to lie on the couch and not to go to sleep or I would die. Then you left to prepare dinner. I had a lump the size of a chicken egg on my temple and I did not want to die, so I did not fall asleep.

I could go on, about how frightened I was to send my three-year-old little girl to visit with you for a week, and how happy I was that she came home telling me about all the arts and crafts that Grandma had taught her. I could go on about how nice you seemed as you grew older. I could talk about how sorry I was when you grew senile and you no longer knew who you were, or who Daddy was, or who your grandaughter or I was. In fact, you thought you were seventeen, and your mom and dad would be so angry with the bad man who kept you from going home and made you sleep in the same bed with him. Despite a heavy front door with a loud alarm on it, you would leave the house in the middle of the night and Daddy would wake up, and the most tragic slow-motion escape and pursuit would ensue.

I could talk about your last night on this earth, when Daddy woke us up to tell us that you had died, and I could tell you about the long wait for the coroner's van, and how the coroner's assistants zipped you up in that green rubber bag and I kissed you on the forehead, which is something you never did to me and how they rolled you out to the wagon and I never saw you again. Or I could tell you how much I loved that you encouraged me to read, and told me that Daddy had written stories too, and that I missed having a mother who actually liked me.

I could tell you all of this, but it is too late. You are gone. Rest in peace, mom.


My prayers are with you, I Swear, for your healing that has and has yet to occur.
 
2022-07-06 7:36:42 AM  

I Swear I'll Jump: BTW, how the hell do we delete our posts?


You just have to ring up the management.

And thank you for sharing.
 
2022-07-06 7:41:55 AM  
Guy was born in NY....

Raised in NY...

Spent at least 20 years in the NYPD...

Retired to Florida already set in his ways...

Florida man?
 
2022-07-06 7:42:58 AM  

phooeypapa: This serves no purpose at all, other than to allow his family to vent. How about if you just write no obituary at all and move on with your life. He's gone and all of his faults with him as we all will be at some point.


It sounds as if everyone in this assclown's life has reason to vent about him, and that's a valid enough purpose in itself.
 
2022-07-06 7:43:50 AM  

phooeypapa: This serves no purpose at all, other than to allow his family to vent. How about if you just write no obituary at all and move on with your life. He's gone and all of his faults with him as we all will be at some point.


Never had a narcissist in your life? Like, a genuine DSM one?

It gets a little tiring hearing stories of the deceased being all great and having sunshine out his/her ass because they only spent the holidays and a few hours at a time with them. It let's people know ahead of time at the funeral not to talk to the kids. Most fineral homes wouldn't dare let family post a shiatshow explainer at the door. Bad look for the business. Better that people just skip the funeral instead of walk in all confused.

And it probably saves on the phone calls and mail you don't particularly want to receive from well wishers.
 
2022-07-06 7:47:59 AM  

NathanAllen: He sounds like father of the year compared to my genetic donor.


Were you under the impression that it's a competition?
 
2022-07-06 8:00:15 AM  
Narcissist Personality Disorder, untreated ADHD, or mundane alcoholism?
 
2022-07-06 8:07:02 AM  

AppleOptionEsc: phooeypapa: This serves no purpose at all, other than to allow his family to vent. How about if you just write no obituary at all and move on with your life. He's gone and all of his faults with him as we all will be at some point.

Never had a narcissist in your life? Like, a genuine DSM one?

It gets a little tiring hearing stories of the deceased being all great and having sunshine out his/her ass because they only spent the holidays and a few hours at a time with them. It let's people know ahead of time at the funeral not to talk to the kids. Most fineral homes wouldn't dare let family post a shiatshow explainer at the door. Bad look for the business. Better that people just skip the funeral instead of walk in all confused.

And it probably saves on the phone calls and mail you don't particularly want to receive from well wishers.


^^^ THIS...all of this. My m-i-l had NPD and it was very difficult to hear all the "she was such a wonderful person" sentiments from people who in reality barely knew her when we had to make all the notification calls. Her obit was desultory and more pro forma than anything else and ran a week after she died and had been cremated because of this very reason. She was responsible for a lot of pain in the family and my wife and her sister were d.o.n.e. with it all.
 
2022-07-06 8:07:12 AM  
Nimbull was a middle aged third rate programmer who liked to game and hang around on Fark and make COBOL comments and jokes about leaf blowers and punch cards. He spent most of his life trying to play around with computers and even got a job working on Oracle databases much to his sanity's dismay. He spent his final years caring for an elderly mother while single and with no kids. He's survived by a 35 year old Radio Shack Color Computer 3, a Pentium 2 Gateway system with cow spots, and several other computers all running Linux and having a COBOL compiler on each one. His work at home PC was returned since it ran Windows.

Punch card arrangements can be sent to ....
 
2022-07-06 8:11:10 AM  

phooeypapa: This serves no purpose at all, other than to allow his family to vent. How about if you just write no obituary at all and move on with your life. He's gone and all of his faults with him as we all will be at some point.


Fark user imageView Full Size
 
2022-07-06 8:16:20 AM  

H31N0US: And this isn't Florida Man.

It's an asshole NYPD. Stop blaming Florida for the rest of the country's trash.


All the same, he was drawn to Florida like a fly to sh*t.
 
2022-07-06 8:19:02 AM  
One of my wife's uncle's was an abusive drunk. He never moved out of his parent's house. When he died his brothers had him cremated and interred on a plot he had. No calling hours, no funeral and no grave marker. Wasted life
 
2022-07-06 8:19:43 AM  

TwowheelinTim: H31N0US: And this isn't Florida Man.

It's an asshole NYPD. Stop blaming Florida for the rest of the country's trash.

All the same, he was drawn to Florida like a fly to sh*t.


It's not unusual for anyone in the northeast to crave better weather after dealing with this crap for a lifetime.
 
2022-07-06 8:23:39 AM  

I Swear I'll Jump: BTW, how the hell do we delete our posts?


Welcome to Fark
 
2022-07-06 8:30:38 AM  

H31N0US: TwowheelinTim: H31N0US: And this isn't Florida Man.

It's an asshole NYPD. Stop blaming Florida for the rest of the country's trash.

All the same, he was drawn to Florida like a fly to sh*t.

It's not unusual for anyone in the northeast to crave better weather after dealing with this crap for a lifetime.


Can't argue that, but Florida isn't the only place on the continent without the heinous weather of New York. Florida man is Florida man.
 
2022-07-06 8:31:50 AM  
I bet the kids wrote it.
 
2022-07-06 8:33:01 AM  

I Swear I'll Jump: Please excuse my triple post. I am a woman of very little brain.


I thought it was an art thing.
 
2022-07-06 8:35:35 AM  

AppleOptionEsc: phooeypapa: This serves no purpose at all, other than to allow his family to vent. How about if you just write no obituary at all and move on with your life. He's gone and all of his faults with him as we all will be at some point.

Never had a narcissist in your life? Like, a genuine DSM one?

It gets a little tiring hearing stories of the deceased being all great and having sunshine out his/her ass because they only spent the holidays and a few hours at a time with them. It let's people know ahead of time at the funeral not to talk to the kids. Most fineral homes wouldn't dare let family post a shiatshow explainer at the door. Bad look for the business. Better that people just skip the funeral instead of walk in all confused.

And it probably saves on the phone calls and mail you don't particularly want to receive from well wishers.


I guarantee that there will be people at that funeral service who will say something about how much fun he was to be around.

Narcissists are often charming and fun because they know, on some level, you don't get new victims by being a shiat all the time.
 
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