Beautifully Unique Sparkleponies

On Myths, Morons, Free Speech, Football, and Assorted Absurdities

by Chris Kluwe

Beautifully Unique Sparkleponies

Hardcover, 261 pages, Little Brown & Co, List Price: $27 | purchase

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Book Summary

This collection of personal essays from the punter for the Minnesota Vikings, best known for a searing letter written to a Maryland politician defending free speech that went viral, discusses religion, guns, the Pope, in-helmet cameras and his children.

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Excerpt: Beautifully Unique Sparkleponies

Eulogy

My wife asked me to write this; I think she may be eyeing the life-insurance payout. Regardless, here is a eulogy for myself, written by myself, about myself.

We are gathered here today to remember the life of Christopher James Kluwe, son of Ronald and Sandra, husband of Isabel, father of Olivia and Remy. He probably died while doing something stupid, but that's the way life goes. C'est la vie.

Remember Chris not as an athlete, or an activist, or a father or brother or husband. Remember him as an ordinary human being, full of carbon and hydrogen and oxygen (and some trace elements), just like everyone else. He put his pants on one leg at a time (he tried doing two once and fell on his face); he pissed and crapped and had sex in all the usual messy ways; and he lived his life faithful to what he believed in.

Justice. Empathy. Honesty.

Treating others the way he wanted to be treated. Noticing if an action was fair to everyone involved and speaking out against it if it was not. Hiding as little as possible (we all need a piece of the id for ourselves) and telling the truth, but to inform, not to wound.

Remember him as a liar (a quality all good writers possess), but one cognizant of the damage lies can do. Remember him as selfish and needy, spending time on himself before others, a habit we all need to break. Remember him for all the petty slights and paltry insults an unthinking mind can dispense.

Above all, remember him as human. Complex, varied, tangled. Remember his irreverent sense of humor, because goddamn if this speech isn't getting stuffy. Seriously, what is wrong with all you people, why aren't you in the back eating ice cream cake? I mean, there is ice cream cake here, right? It's my funeral, there better be some friggin' ice cream cake (I'll try to keep the language toned down for all the little ones present).

You want to know how you should remember me? Search your own memories! How did I act to you, how did I influence your life, what dreams did I inspire you to pursue, THAT 'S how you should remember me. I know how I lived my life; only you know how you'll live yours.

Now go! Go dance, celebrate, eat, drink, and be merry! Funerals can be such ridiculously boring occasions, and that's not what I was about. I want you to laugh at the priest, thumb your nose at any sort of authority or structure, and take advantage of every second you have left — we never know when it'll end.

I want you to have a party, damn it, and it better be good, because that's what I always wanted out of life — the chance to laugh and enjoy the ride. To that end, the following rules shall be imposed:

The Chris Kluwe Funeral Drinking Game

— Whenever someone says, "Do you remember that time when...?" he shall have to take one large gulp of his drink (which better be alcoholic) (kids, you can use root beer; your parents will thank me later).

— If at any point a person references an old Internet meme (it's over nine thousand, oh really, cool story, bro, it's a trap, all your base are belong to us, etc.), he shall have to take two gulps of his drink and then sing the nyan cat song for five seconds.

— If at any time a person successfully rickrolls someone else, he may force the other person to finish his or her drink.

— I'm never gonna give you up.

— I'm never gonna let you down.

— If none of those previous four entries made any sense to the people listening, then I weep for our future.

— If they all made sense, you know what you have to do.

— If anyone confuses Star Wars with Star Trek, or vice versa, he shall have to finish the remainder of his drink while being subjected to the good-natured mockery of those around him.

— Funeral attendees who show up in cosplay will be allowed to perform the appropriate death rites of whatever universes they are representing (subject, of course, to their not actually burning the place down around everyone or something just as terrifyingly absurd — have some commonsense, people).

— If the Westboro Baptist Church is picketing for some reason, invite them in for drinks and food. They really seem like they could use a lot more friends in their lives.

— If people aren't smiling or laughing or having a good time, they have to drink until they are.

Above all, enjoy one another's company. We never know when we'll never be able to tell someone "I love you" again — say it often. Also, try to avoid using the word never multiple times in a sentence; it's confusing.

I lived my life, people, and I expect you to live yours. So long, and thanks for all the fish!

The funeral eulogy brought to you by Chris Kluwe, all rights reserved, trademark copyright LLC CBS TNT R2D2 oh my God stop reading this stupid thing already the show's over there's not going to be any food left for you

From Beautifully Unique Sparkleponies: On Myths, Morons, Free Speech, Football, and Assorted Absurdities by Chris Kluwe. Copyright 2013 by Chris Kluwe. Excerpted by permission of Little, Brown and Company.

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