Matthew McConaughey, televangelist Robert H. Schuller, old people, fireworks, 3,000 mourning mourners and “children’s letters to Evel” sent heavenward tied to balloons (for a fee)…DAMMIT! Aren’t you so depressed that you didn’t get to attend Evel Knievel’s funeral? Couldn’t you just blow your brains out, if only those douchebag liberals would allow you easier access to a nice handgun? Me too! But fret no more: Random YouTube searches and clever cullings culled from something called The Montana Standard have come to our collective rescue!

And it begins with a touch of atmosphere:

Light snow fell as mourners began lining up before 7 a.m. waiting for the Civic Center to open. During the nearly three-hour viewing, a steady flow of mourners passed the open casket, which was surrounded by red poinsettias and American flags. Ushers clad in white suits seated people as strains of Frank Sinatra’s “My Way” could be heard throughout the Civic Center.

Yes, he actually lay there, really quite dead and rather Irishly open-casketed, as 3,000 weeping Butte-icians or whatever crept by and gaped at him, a la Eva Peron. (Evel-ita! Evel-ita!)

Then we get a little of the MSNBC perspective (beware hidden propaganda!):

Next, we dive head first into frantic celebrity sightings of Matthew McConaughey, who eats his burgers pickely and hot, thanks, dude:

Bill DePell, a server and bartender at the sports bar, told The Montana Standard (that) the actor ordered a Grand Slam, a large hamburger, and added jalapeños and extra pickles. “He said we should make a burger named after him that’s like the one he had.” But McConaughey made his own Atkins diet-friendly modifications to the sandwich…He took off the top bun and pulled all the bread out of (it),” and then returned the hollowed-out slice to the burger. He kept saying ‘No worries’ a lot….he called me dude a couple of times.”

Dude, indeed. And now we finally come to the shakey bootleg of Matthew’s speech (keep your shirt on!) which was very…er…uh…yeah. And please to note: He’s speaking from the same stage from which I got my high school diploma:

“He’s forever in flah-yat nah-yuh…he dudn’t have to come back daay-yown, he dudn’t have to lay-und”, indeed. Matthew McConaughey is, of course, an enormous dork. And sounds an awful lot like Carol Channing, come to think of it.

And then of course, nothing in Butte—and especially no funeral—could ever possibly be complete without exploding things and a ton of honking:

Larry King was rumored to have attended too, but I can’t find any proof. And I didn’t look very hard. But that is the last we’ll probably hear from Evel Knievel. For now. Over.

Touch the sky, you glorious bastard!