November 2004

I Will Ruin My Own Funeral If It Kills Me

Recently I've been contemplating my mortality. But not because I'm especially worried that I might die soon. And I'm not really concerned with my own death anyhow. I'm more interested in my funeral. Maybe that's because of a recent death in the family or because of this brilliant Achewood comic strip . Or maybe just because I'm a morbid jerk.

In a recent conversation about future funerals, a friend asked me if I'd push her corpse over on certain relatives. I agreed, and further volunteered to fill her throat with some sort of putrid liquid so as to recreate vomiting as I shoved her corpse upon said relatives.

At this point in the conversation I had had way too much coffee to be stopped. As a result, I've come up with serval brilliant ideas for my own funeral. All of the below would be acceptable upon my death, and this document should be considered legally binding, as with Grandpa's last will and testament.

My funeral should include any of the following:

• The exact service described in the aforementioned Achewood comic strip. To the letter.
• Burning me in effigy, but for real. Lynch my corpse from the rafters, dowse it in gas, and set me on fire.
• Hang my corpse from the rafters and beat it with bats and cut it with swords until all the candy inside comes bursting out (note to undertaker: replace my organs with candy).
• Upon my death, one of my legs should be removed, and made noticeable at the wake. Tuna sashimi and red wine should be served upon the coffin with the label, "take peace with the body and blood" or something like that. Only those who eat the tuna will be eligible to inherit my millions.
• Please spread my body over the Chesapeake Bay. Not my ashes, my body. Roll my corpse off the Bay Bridge.
• Roll my corpse into a ditch. I don't want to be a burden to my family. Also, I hate funerals. I don't even want to attend my own. Even if I'm dead.
• Place my corpse on an Amtrak train without my wallet. In a twist on the old prank, I won't wake up in Cleveland with no wallet and money, as I won't wake up at all. Added bonus: cleaning up my mess will be somebody else's problem.
• Just as I have vowed to steal Grandpa's corpse and set it on fire in the desert, ala Gram Parsons- so people will think he's some kind of badass- I wish for some hot chick I know to rush into my viewing and start stabbing me in the face and genitals while sobbing hysterically. So, hot chicks I know, when we have a serious conversation about my morality in the near future, I'm not trying to get into your pants. I'm trying to get you to stab me in the face. Please wait until I'm dead. If it will help you, I will provide you with a plenty good reason to stab me in the face.
• Feed me to bears. Or sharks. They've both been after me for years. Or, alternatively, just dump my corpse into the National Aquarium in Baltimore or the pathetic National Zoo in DC. Dress me up like a hobo and tip me in. C'mon, it will be funny.
• Additionally, my corpse is available for blackmail. Use my corpse to frame your enemies for murder!

Basically, I'm just looking for somebody to desecrate my corpse once my life has ended. Just one thing- no necrophilia. Not unless you're a hot chick. Who's willing to stab me in the face in front of my family.