Also, um, aren't the silk-lined shiny shiny monstrosities very -- new? I mean, okay, my coffin knowledge skips from
How the West Was Won
directly to
Six Feet Under,
but the good old pine box is not exactly caveman equipment, you know? It was good enough for cowboys!
(I'm sure that advocates of the open-coffin funeral feel differently, but, I think open coffin funerals are gross.)
My mother has requested a pine box, but that's just because she's quasi-hippie. She also wants to be buried in Maine, but there's no way I'll let her be embalmed, and I'm told it's illegal to transport an unembalmed body across state lines. So she better plan on dying in Maine. Many, many years from now.
Wi fi cups of lurve.
Okay, can I have that go-home dispensation? I'm hovering on the edge of migraine, and if I left now I could nap before my 4 o' clock meeting. Also afterwards.
No funeral for me. Cheapest cremation possible. Spread me out in the cedar grove of my grandparents property and have a kegger after with lots of stories and 80's music and bad 90's rap. No crying.
I'd cry a little. But then I'd tell a dirty story, ok?
No funeral for me. Cheapest cremation possible.
Yep, set me on fire and scatter the ashes, or, if fiscally feasable, have some of my ashes shot into the sun, please. Thanks.
Let my body putrify for a week or two, then dump it on the White House lawn.
(Depending on who's in office at the time, of course.)
I'd actually volunteer for the eaten-by-vultures option. Post-mortem, for preference.
I'd actually volunteer for the eaten-by-vultures option. Post-mortem, for preference.
That'd be cool.
Or if they'd need to test what happens when a person gets sucked through a jet engine....
