Death Of A Flaming Asshole

Remind me not to have Richard "Lurch" Brookheiser write my eulogy:

Many years later, another guest, not a callow youth but the mayor of New York, sat next to her at the dinner table, giving his short billionaire know-it-all opinions of everything, in this case the effects of second hand smoke. She blew a puff in his face, and drawled, "Mr. Mayor, may I smoke in my own house?"

Of course, if that's the most positive recollection you have of the deceased, you've got to work with what you have.