My grandmother’s funeral comes to mind. Some old preacher dude walks up to the podium with a legal pad, flips over a page, drops the “we’re at a funeral, act somber” body language like you’d drop a bath robe, and starts what I assume is an average Sunday sermon, occasionally remembering to point to the corpse behind him and insisting “That’s what she believed.”
He had the gall to offer his hand for me to shake.