I was surprised to see FindaGrave.com allowing unkind comments to be posted on the memorial page for Jack Welch, the controversial and widely-loathed CEO of General Electric through the 1980s and 1990s.
My connection to FindaGrave (or FaG, as the site’s users refer to it), ended years ago when I determined that the time and energy I put into gifting content to the site had earned me nothing in return. I can be selfless up to a point but something about that site turned me away, in particular its fetishizing of “notable” and “very famous” people as well as its designation of the World Trade Center as a physical cemetery. FaG has done fine without me. But I still land on that site once in a while.
My perception of the site is that it had been pretty vigilant about disabling comments on the pages of highly controversial individuals or those related to them. Even Fred Trump gets this treatment. No flowers for Fred. While Jack Welch might not fall into the same controversial realm of John Gotti, Ted Bundy, or Jeffrey Epstein, whose pages do not allow “flowers” to be left by site visitors, Welch was polarizing anough to let bitterness linger over his legacy.
There are respectful comments as well, but something tells me FaG may have dropped the ball on moderating this page.
I have what I call a Jack Welch moment almost every day. It derives from my perception of his notorious severance package from GE, which stipulated every comfort a man could have right down to a lifetime supply of toilet paper. When I first heard of this settlement I imagined it went further and included complimentary ass-wiping services provided by an endless conga line of the tens of thousands of GE employees he fired. He was also lavished with cars, apartments, and who even knows what else.
But it was the lifetime supply of toiletries that impressed me most. The always-available, always within arm’s reach access to toilet paper, bath towels, soap, shampoo seemed like a lifestyle choice I could make for myself without a company’s shareholders pumping upteen billions of dollars into my bathroom. This aligned with my decision to sit, instead of stand, when I shower. Sitting in the shower has been the best, most satisfying change to my diurnal routines ever. But it comes with a cadre of potential inconveniences that Jack Welch would never tolerate.
One potential annoyance I specifically focus on is that the bath towel must be within arm’s reach when it is time to dry off. Since I am seated, the towel being within arm’s reach is not always possible depending how the towel got hung on the curtain rod. It has to be deliberately hung with one end much longer than the other, but obviously not so much longer that the towel falls. It’s an exquisitely crafted art form, I tell you, hanging this towel just so. Hanging it too evenly means I have to (gasp) stand up to access the towel. Such a horrible way to suffer, standing up to get one’s bath towel in that moment of need.
I am deliberately being sarcastical but the standing up thing is not without its hazards.
I attempted to expand this arms-reach convenience of the towel into other flourishes. The showerhead, with its multiple settings, shall always be set to the desired one just left of the center setting. There shall be a roll of toilet paper on the floor within arms reach. Various other items, such as face wash, electric razor, and a recepticle for such detritus as used dental floss and a peach pit (should I dare to eat a peach) are always available tubside on the floor easily within arms reach should I need them.
In Jack Welch’s world all these items would be placed and maintained by fired GE workers doomed to a life of serfdom at Welch’s pleasure. In the event that an item is not placed within arms reach and Jack Welch is unable to reach his bath towel without standing up the fired GE worker is reprimanded and forced to contrive another convenience to make Welch’s life ever more convenient in its daily ablutions.
In my world all the placements are done by myself, and most of the ideas I’ve had for making my shower time a seamless experience of convenience and accessibility basically whittled down to just making sure the towel is reachable from a seated position. It is honestly kind of annoying when I neglect to hang the towel properly. It disrupts my morning serenity, since the shower time is about as close as I ever come to meditation. I’ve never been able to fully meditate. Too much twitchiness in this head.
Jack Welch’s burial site is said to be unknown. As one of the anonymous commenters above suggested, this was likely deliberate so as to prevent the burial site from becoming a destination for those who loathed him and needed a place to pee. My guess is that he was cremated and scattered, but perhaps he was quietly buried along with one of his three wives.
