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The Night Before Larry Was Stretched

The night before larry was stretched
Oh, the night before larry was stretched
Well the boys they all paid him a visit
A bit in their sacks too they fetched
For they sweated their duds till they ris it
For larry was always the lad
When a boy was condemned to the squeezer
Would fence all the duds that he had
For to help his poor friend to a sneezer--
-- and warm his ol gob fore he died
Well the boys they came crowding in fast
And they threw all their stools round about him
Six glims round his trap-case was placed
For he couldnt be well-waked without them
When one of them asked, could he die
Without having duly repented?
Said larry, thats all in me eye
And first by the clergy invented--
--for to get a fat bit for themselves
Oh and Ill be cut up like a pie:

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song performed by Elvis Costello
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Remember Larry

Say, do you remember that guy larry next door
Well, he always was the neighborhood clown
Like the time he pulled my pants off
And he took those color pictures
And posted copies all over town
Or the time that he dumped toxic waste on my lawn
Or those wacky prank phone calls from midnight till dawn
What a crazy kid larry was, always foolin around
Boy, what a joker
What a funny, funny guy
Ill never forget about larry
No matter how I try
Say, do you remember when I lost all my hair
cause lar gave me that nair shampoo
And hey, how bout the day he put ben gay inside my jockstrap
And filled my toothpaste tube up glue
All those wedgies he gave
All those shoestrings he tied
All those brownies he made with the ex-lax inside
Oh, lar, I swear, it was a laugh a minute with you

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song performed by Weird Al Yankovic
Added by Lucian Velea
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Happy Birthday Daddy Larry

86 years old,
Today my Daddy Larry...
Would have celebrated on this day.

He and I had a unique relationship.
We weren't particularly close.
And yet,
A closeness existed.

He and I were so much alike.
But he never did scold me,
Since my mother Edna did that...
To keep my steps on a path walking right.

When I was young,
My daddy was called Lawrence.
I was then Larry junior...
With my own presence known.

Then when I became of age,

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Curb Your Inner Larry

When humor is combined with inconsideration,
as it so often is in “Curb
Enthusiasm, ” men are like a hostile nation,
Arabs versus Jews and Serb
against the Croat. If you’re trying to be funny,
suppress your cruel proclivity
to sound embittered. Sweeten words like honey
to show your sensitivity.
Ignore the fact that being rude is lots of fun. Your hon-
esty is not a Stradivari
which people might enjoy to hear you playing on,
so always curb your inner Larry.
Martin Miller writes about the reunion of Larry David with the cast o the Seinfelds on a forthcoming episode of “Curb Your Enthusiasm (LA Times, October 3,2009) : :
He knows he has issues. When asked about Dr. Phil's brief appearance on 'Curb's' second episode this season, he declares: 'I like him. I would definitely go to Dr. Phil if I could. You know what? I'm putting this out there right now that if he would take me, I'm going. Does he still have patients? I don't know if my problems are big enough for what he's used to.' A more immediate problem surfaces, and Dr. Phil is nowhere in sight. Larry spots something in his salad.”Is that a scallion? ' he frowns. 'I've got a date tonight.'
When informed he's probably one of the most eligible bachelors in town, he laughs. 'I wouldn't go that far, ' he said. You're rich, you're famous - you got a great sense of humor. 'Women don't like the humor when it's combined with inconsideration and insensitivity, ' he corrects. In real life, to some, his actions may be taken for inconsideration and insensitivity, but in the world of 'Curb' it's always hilarious and, to Larry, completely authentic. 'This show is the only chance that I have to be honest about anything, ' Larry said. 'Your life generally is so dishonest. Your dealings with your fellow human beings are so dishonest, everything is so dishonest, to have this opportunity to be honest is very refreshing to me.' Later, in the parking lot, the farewells are said. No handshake. 'Yeah, this was fun, ' Larry said

10/3/09

poem by Gershon Hepner
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Flick-Knife Incident

After the argument

'Helen said'. 'Granny said'.

'Paul said'. 'Granny said'.

'Larry asked'.

Granny,
Who is Mrs Devereux,
Pulled out a flick-knife.

'! ', 'Helen said'.

'Helen asked'. Granny (lengthily replied) .
'Helen asked'. Granny (abruptly replied) .
'Helen asked'. 'Her grandmother said'.
'Larry said'. 'Paul said'.
'Larry asked', 'Does Declan know? '
'Granny said'.

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poem by Douglas Scotney
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Oh! Larry, Harry, Tom and Jerry! Read the Universal SCARY LONE FOX Story!

I saw a chameleon ‘loneliness’ changing its name –
Aloneness and aloofness, seclusion sequestration are very few;
Lonesomeness and separateness, isolation and alienation are not new!
Detachment and disengagement in a cocooning home with wicked fame.
Kick your heels, itch your palms – howls the lone emperor rudely….
Larry, Harry, Tom and Jerry read the universal ‘Scary lone fox story’!

I'm driving myself without any one by my side all the way
Yet the loneliness stands to confront me at the door way;
I don't want to be the only one who's feeling lonely fun
When the entire world is having dream run, I have none!
Kick your heels, itch your palms – howls the lone emperor rudely….
Larry, Harry, Tom and Jerry read the universal ‘Scary lone fox story’!

No matter where I go – lonely emperor stays with me......
No matter what I do – lonely sorcerer digs in me.......
I’m all alone singly Lonely rests my only head – I’m a broken arrow;
A barren bell rings – lonely ruth sings with sorrow in only burrow!
Kick your heels, itch your palms – howls the lone emperor rudely….
Larry, Harry, Tom and Jerry read the universal ‘Scary lone fox story’!

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poem by Harindhar Reddy
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Larry L. Graeber........Memorial Address

August 28,1938 - September 3,2012

Delivered

September 25,2012

At

Michael Mondavi Family Estate

Napa, California



I was born and reared in the rolling hills of Southern Illinois. In 1956, after a four-year stint with the Marine Corps I decided to settle in San Francisco. Come the last week of next month, I will have lived in California fifty-six years. Outside my immediate family, the majority of my relatives are still concentrated in Mid-Western States.

I visit them from time to time. Not as often as I should. Still I think of them frequently, and miss them dearly. Those reflective moments always lead me back to those magnificent days of my childhood, where the whole world it seemed knew me simply as the roly poly little boy named Jimmy.

Much has happened since those days of yesteryear. During the intervening decades, death has laid claim to family. My maternal Grandfather, both my parents, and five of my siblings. Faith leads me to believe a spiritual rebirth awaits, and that one day in that sacred future we will all be re-united...bound together...forever. And through that faith I've come to appreciate that death and dying is a necessary passage through which we all must travel. There is reassurance in the realization that death is merely a finality of the body, but not of the spirit. And in that fashion the dead are destined to live on in the memory, ever closer than before. Within that glorious significance dwells the continuum of life itself. For in that divining moment perception does in fact become reality. One afternoon while exploring, and appreciating the depth of this poignant revelation, I was moved in a fit of anguish to compose the following poem: 'Reality says they've passed away...Is not perception reality..for I feel a living presence...as though they stand...right next to me. Those guiding hands...of long ago...so firm against my brow...as strong, yet gentle...as yesterday...is the warmth...that I know now. That legacy of the distant past...still a mighty roar...memories sustain my soul...and on whose wings I soar...reality says they've passed away...silenced in death and then...perception says they're just as close...and real as way back when.'

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poem by James B. Earley
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Larry O’Toole

You've all heard of Larry O'Toole,
Of the beautiful town of Drumgoole;
He had but one eye,
To ogle ye by—
Oh, murther, but that was a jew'l!
A fool
He made of de girls, dis O'Toole.

'Twas he was the boy didn't fail,
That tuck down pataties and mail;
He never would shrink
From any sthrong dthrink,
Was it whisky or Drogheda ale;
I'm bail
This Larry would swallow a pail.

Oh, many a night at the bowl,
With Larry I've sot cheek by jowl;
He's gone to his rest,
Where's there's dthrink of the best,

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poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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“Lucky Larry” (A Tale of Lost Love)

It was 'High Mesa' country,
A place between two worlds,
Once explored by Hernan Cortes,
During his quest for fame & fortune;

Larry stumbled onto a hidden temple,
He entered...
Deep within stood an altar of stone,
An eerie glow filled the chamber,
Atop the altar two orbs hovered,
Reaching for the one nearest,
Eager hands encircled a golden orb,
He filled at once with feelings of love

A vision flashed through his mind;

Two young lovers stood before him,
But he saw only the beautiful maiden,
Auburn hair, bottomless brown eyes,
A smile that made Angels’ blush,

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poem by Ray Lucero
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When I Discovered My Given Name

When I discovered my given name 'is' Lawrence...

(Named after my father.
Who on 'his' birth certificate says Lawrence 'A'.
And I'm suppose to be a junior with no 'A' attached.
Go figure!)

...and not 'Larry' as I am still called by family members,
And very close friends.

People who 'knew' me became upset,
When I began calling myself 'Lawrence'.
Saying I thought I was better than the others.
And that I was not 'real' OR down-to-Earth!

'Does this sound a bit crazed?
I wanted to call myself by my 'real' name...
And folks who didn't have my name,
Became upset!
Pure insanity...

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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