The only thing I really want people saying at my funeral is,
“Man, Darq owed me a LOT of money.”
LADIES AND GENTLEMAN! STEP RIGHT UP and for the LOW, LOW price of 50 cents, you can RIDE the SLORTAR! Impress your FRIENDS! Amuse your enemies!
In California your cremated remains can be sent up as (in) fireworks!They take you off-shore, on a barge and light you off. Your family and friends watch from a boat.
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Slortar > where did your sig come from. Anything to do with Mustard Plug?
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It’s a Simpson’s reference. Homer gets a helper monkey and completely corrupts it. After a few days he returns Mojo to the monkey shop. The owner rushes out, sees Mojo collapsed on the step with a beer gut and in underwear, asks him what happened, and pulls out a small laptop. Mojo types out “PRAY FOR MOJO” and then collapses.
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Chum, I love the giving of yourself in little Tupperware cups! Wish i had thought of it!
When my mother died, we buried her in her bowling outfit, shoes and all. The only thing we couldn’t do was put the ball in with her. They said they didn’t whan it rolling around in the coffin.
I want CCR’s “Looking Out My Backdoor” played at my services. “Bother me tommorow, today I’ll have no sorrow.Doo,doo,doo, looking out my backdoor.”
Chum, I love the giving of yourself in little Tupperware cups! Wish i had thought of it!
When my mother died, we buried her in her bowling outfit, shoes and all. The only thing we couldn’t do was put the ball in with her. They said they didn’t whan it rolling around in the coffin.
I want CCR’s “Looking Out My Backdoor” played at my services. “Bother me tommorow, today I’ll have no sorrow.Doo,doo,doo, looking out my backdoor.”
I’m not kidding about this. About seven years ago, I distributed a sealed envelope to three of my friends, to be opened upon my death.
I ask them to see that I am at least partially cremated (maybe a leg would do, since the casket is usually half closed). The ashes are to be given to one of my letter-holding friends, who will then sprinkle a small portion of my remains over a phat bag of gank cheeba.
Whereupon my friends will all get together, sit down, and smoke me.
The New England Journal of Medicine recently published an article demonstrating that if you consume enough Mexican Fat Burners[sup]TM [/sup] you can actually levitate right out of your coffin. And by turning the lights down low, the onlookers can actually see your eyes glowing - that is, if you haven’t donated your corneas.
The hell with the K-Mart. You all can ride me for a quarter right now. Oops, was that my outside voice?
I’d wanted to do the animatronic thing too, except in a vertical glass case filled with preservative fluid. It would have a motion sensor installed so when people got close my gruesome corpse would lurch forward as if to eat them.
My great aunt died and was cremated. My family took my dad’s sailboat out on the bay to scatter the ashes. Now, going upwind tends to be a little rough and windy, so my dad decided we should scatter the ashes while we sailed downwind, which would be much calmer, and safer for my sister, who was leaning off the back with the urn. In retrospect, the outcome was obvious; we were all immediately coated with the incinerated remains of my great aunt. Cough Cough So I guess she was scattered in the ocean, and the boat, and the car seats, and the washing machine…but that’s what she would have wanted, right?
I want to be in an open casket with my body surrounded by cubes of dark-rye bread. About an hour into the wake my breast-plate will be be removed to expose a chest cavity full of dill dip. Snacks-n-mourning, they go hand in hand.
One place I worked at, some of my co-workers went to the funeral of a retired employee who had been before my time. She was buried in her favorite nightgown, with a romance novel and a carton of her favorite cigarettes. Bizarre.
I’d like to be at my funeral, kinda like RickJay. Except i’d like to be more animated, ‘Weekend at Bernie’s’ style.
It would be mandatory that there would be some kind of drinking contest prior to the service, and the last six men standing would be my pallbearers.
Well, actually … ‘pallbearer’ is quite a loose term. They’d just hoist my body up above their heads and pass it to the mourners and I would do one final crowd surf towards the front of the chapel. Once at the front, i’d be sitting there in a deckchair, with one of the pallbearers operating my limbs to make it look like i’m waving goodbye to everyone.
With the eulogies and all the other speechy crap that these things tend to have, I would make it mandatory that all sentences end in the phrase “so slap your sausage”.
My departure would be quite spectacular, yet tasteful and dignified. I’d have my cavities filled with explosives and I would be detonated in a large field (I’d like to go out with a bang).
The whole affair would end in one big continuous rave party, the likes of which may never be seen again.
Oh yeah. I’d want my wife to start dating again straight away. You know, women have their needs and all that.
I’ve always said that I wanted to be cremated and baked into chocolate chip cookies, which would be served at the reading of the will. The last line of the will would detail my final resting place.
But this thread is giving me other ideas. I may have to rethink…
I would like to be true to both my Nordic and Irish roots. I want my friends to take my body to Burke Lake. Burke Lake is a nice little piece of heaven in Virginia right outside of D.C. where you can rent a rowboat and go fishing, stop to feed the ducks or have a nice picnic. I want to have my friends rent a metal rowboat, fill it with tinder, and lay me in it in full Viking garb. Douse me with a few gallons of Irish Whiskey and gasoline. Push the boat into the water and toss in a match. I have this mental picture of some kid with his grandfather in a rowboat having a nice Sunday fishing expedition when my body floats by all ablaze.
finnofranco, I knew a guy who, as a teenager, actually gave his favorite pet rabbit the Viking funeral treatment. He didn’t dress it up but he did put it in a small boat, douse it with lighter fluid, and shove it out onto a pond.
I always thought I’d rather have my dead body put up on a platform in a tree and go back to the elements thatta way. Burial seems like a hideous waste, and I’ve long watched and admired the beauty of a buzzard’s flight. It was a rather romantic idea; transforming one’s final remains into the means for an up-and-out gracious soar into yond.
Lately though, at work, we have an injured vulture, so I get to have a closer view. The final product of his meals is a particularly vile excretion, the most horrid, putrid, gaggifying smell I’ve ever experienced.
So, I’d still go with the romantic ideal, but have to laugh darkly at the reality of the actual final transformation. Wheww, life just ain’t pretty…
Bah, blowing people’s minds at your funeral is so five minutes ago. If you really want to create an unforgettable moment try waking up at your ownautopsy like my uncle Bernard did. (he is now a former alcoholic but I digress)
My uncle Bernard was an infamous drunk, who got so bad when inebriated that the other family members would lock the doors and hide when they saw him pull up in the driveway. No one was very suprised then when one night Bernard’s car was found wrapped around a telephone pole and his cold body was lying in a ditch with no apparent vital signs. He was transported straight to the morgue for the coroner to look at first thing in the morning–only a couple of hours away.
When the good doctor pulled him out to have a peek, Bernard woke up and said "Dr. Boone, I presume?’ To which the startled doctor replied “well yes, and I gotta say you are one the first patients who have talked to me in a long time” Apparently Bernard was also a diabetic and was actually in a diabetic coma when found. Needless to say Bernard quit drinking that very instant and never touched another drop.
I swear that this story is true. You can’t make this shit up.
Heh. Wild Bill, resurrected in a death thread.
Oooooooeeeeeeeoooooooh!
Gotcha ya!