I think it’s a safe assumption that pretty much everyone’s been to a wedding. On occasion, the persons scheduled to speak at that wedding can leave a lasting impression that overrides everything from the brides dress to the cake cutting. Sometimes the impression left by the orator can be eloquent and moving. Sometimes the impression left is one of nervous ineptitude. But, sometimes the impression left is a cringe worthy, alcohol driven, first time speaking in front of a crowd trainwreck.
Generally speaking, the best man is also the best candidate for being the fuck up in question.
If I know the people in the wedding party well enough, I try to casually speak with them beforehand to get a sense of whether we’re headed toward a ten minute shitshow of the best man trying out his comedy stylings. If, at any point in this casual discussion, one of the slated speakers declares that, no, I don’t have anything written down, I’m just going to wing it, then the odds of us being dragged into gong show territory go up astronomically. Winging it is also an immediate signal for me to excuse myself and head to the bar. I always assume that ad-lib is a three beer endurance test.
Both weddings and funerals are similar in the sense that the crowd is captured. They are dissimilar because it’s frowned upon to bring a cooler of Mike’s Hard Lemonade to a Catholic funeral. To be fair, whether marrying or burying, the church isn’t a fan of beverages during the event. Except for the wine at the end. But even then you have to be a member to get in the line up. Kind of like Cost-co. But, my point was that you can’t just get up and fuck off if the speaker is either a sobbing incoherent mess, or a pissed up best man. Apparently taking ones exit during a speech at either event is considered in bad taste. Rude even.
But I’ve got to say that I’ve been tempted on more than one occasion to get up, mumble Jesus Christ under my breath and make my escape. I think that I’d leave fairly often if my wife weren’t with me, but for some reason a funeral or a wedding is kind of a date. We almost always go together and as soon as that happens her rules apply. So, no fucking off as the best man launches into his second tale of the grooms sexual exploits.
What I find amazing is that there’s always a percentage of the crowd that genuinely enjoys watching a speech turn into a spectacle. Maybe I shouldn’t be amazed though. Maybe it’s perfectly normal to enjoy watching a person make a fool of themselves in a public forum. Maybe my cringe settings are too sensitive and my expectation settings too high. Perhaps expecting coherence and a little thoughtfulness is old school and smells a little of elitism. Kind of like preferring to hear Obama orate as opposed to Trump do whatever it is that Trump does.
But I’ve got to say that if for some reason I attended a wedding where Donnie was the scheduled speaker, that I’d probably get up and leave. But that’s just me. Apparently there are hordes of people willing to risk their health to bathe in the sagacious musings of Mr. Trump, and I find that disheartening and a little bit scary. Maybe my expectations are too high but I’m sticking to them. Once the mic is in your hands you should be able to finish an entire sentence and generally make sense, even if your message is peculiar.
But it looks like we’ve reached a point where we’ve stripped away the eloquence required to communicate with civility.
I’m not scared of the individual people that enjoy a crude best man speech, but my wariness tends to rise when they gather in groups. I think that my trepidation is based on my sense that the larger the group, the steeper our decline toward barbarism. I tried to watch one of the Trump rally’s once, and about fifteen minutes in I fully expected someone in the crowd to accuse a C.N.N reporter of being a witch. Maybe at his Tulsa rally the crowd can find a Liberal communist in the reporter enclosure and they can drag her to the stage and have an evangelical sacrifice her to ward off the Covid.
Maybe.
For some reason I’ve ended up talking about the Americans again. It’s difficult not to though. Living next door we get to witness the tsunami of self indulgence that is the reality show called the United States. A land where a drunken and crass best man has the mic perpetually. A land where talking points have replaced ideas and compromise. A land where even the simplest of social changes require a revolt of some kind to enact. A land where a Republican politician was booted from running because he was found to have committed the sin of officiating a same sex union. A land where the law prohibiting the religious to discriminate against other Americans is considered an assault on their religious freedom.
I mean, holy fuck America, what’s happened to you?
It’s weird to see our neighbors still fighting their civil war. I think they should just say to hell with it and declare round two official, albeit renamed the uncivil war. Red against Blue instead of Blue vs grey and voila, you’ll have a use for all those Confederate flags. Either that or declare war on someone else so you can harness all of that hostility on a brown country. Ideally one with oil.
But if you decide to attack Iran, then it would be a good idea for the religious red Americans whose rights are currently being trampled to acknowledge a minor irony. That being that your thoughts regarding gay people are much more aligned with the Iranians than they are with better than half of your countrymen.
Kind of odd huh?
One last diversionary American thought. How can Steven Miller and Jared Kushner be on the same team? The two of them remind me of how strange it is to have Harry Rosen and Hugo Boss sharing the same mall space all across Canada. It’s kind of weird. It’s like Jared is firmly a Harry Rosen guy but he likes the look of the boots and Leather jackets on the Hugo Boss side.
Anyway, I’m tired of shitty best man speeches from people who claim to be leaders. Do your fucking homework and have some respect for the people you’re addressing.
The microphone and the stage are responsibilities, and they need to be treated that way. Anything less doesn’t deserve my attention or my attendance and I’ll do whatever I can to prevent you from having that mic at all if you can’t understand this simple a concept.
Best man or Prime Minister. It doesn’t matter. I have expectations that only increase in proportion to the size of your audience.