Many years ago when Kent and I were dating, we, along with his roommate William, watched The Ten Commandments. To be truthful, I don't remember too much about it. I remember Moses' famous scene standing with his arms outstretched at the Red Sea as the Israelites crossed on dry ground, the walls of water on both sides. (That was an impressive scene). Aside from that, I only remember one other scene. It made an impact on me, although not a thoughtful contemplative impact, rather a let's-reveal-how-shallow-we-are impact.
It went something like this: The death angel had just come. People were gathered, mourning the death of the eldest child. Someone sang mournfully, and I do mean MOURNFULLY. The words sung were, "Death Cometh To Me." Quite possibly, since the beginning of time there has never been a song sung so slowly or so mournfully. It must have taken all of 15 minutes to complete the phrase "Death cometh to me". Ok, maybe 15 minutes is an exaggeration, but my point is the same, it was a horrifically slow dirge.
I can still feel my emotions as the song was sung. I'm guessing my face was mildly contorted in anguish. I was, up until that moment, totally and blissfully oblivious that a song that painfully slow was even possible. The three of us had our eyes glued to the television anticipating the next word, as if our anticipation might get the word off the songstress' tongue more quickly.
William pulled himself forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Songstress finally finished and William quipped, "Well that's a snappy little tune."