You were driving alone at night, you heard static on the radio and the engine and lights failed, then you saw a bright light and briefly lost consciousnsess; when you came to, the clock on the dash said that several months had passed, but your wristwatch seemed to indicate that only a few seconds had passed…
I just miss him is all
I’m reviving this thread because I cannot beleive I missed it,
( I was on vacation during the bulk of this and then 9/11 happened…blah blah blah)
**But **
Funerals are my favorite subject and I have a few ideas that I am fond of.
**Tibetan Ritual ** In the ancient kingdom of Mustang (somewhere over in Mongolia, I assume) when someone dies, their naked body is wrapped in ceremonial linen and taken out to an open field by the monks. The village has ceremonial flags around it, prayer flags, that look similar to the triangular jobbies that the used car lots use, only these are fabric. There is writing on them by villagers. The monks then go to the edge of the field sit down and blow these long reeee-cooo-la like horns, which summons…yes…vultures.
The vultures eat your carrion and, when they fly off, it is thought that the birds are carrying your spirit to the next world along with the prayers from the flags.
This appealed to me on many levels for quite some time until I reached two things: A road block and sarcasm.
Roadblock ( my husband) " By the time I fly your dead body over to Pinto it will be tougher than a hockey puck and cost me an arm and a leg. Can’t I just toss your carcass out the back door for the pigeons to take care of?"
**Sarcasm ** ( a friend who liked the idea): Yeah, but then the vultures shit out your soul and it lands on someone’s windshield and then you are squegeed into oblivion by some homeless man."
So, I’ve decided, for now, to take a cheaper, and more local route.
**Funeral Pyre **. Just take all the crappy furniture and whatever that we can’t part with and pile it up, soaking it with fuel. Wrap me up in the old, mismatched linens. Call the Fire Department for a burning permit ( maybe $10). Call the neighbors and friends to bring their old whatnots, toss it all on. STrike a match.
:::::::::::::FOOOOOM!:::::::::::::
There goes Shirley.
(And, with the herbal supplements I do, I should put off a pleasant potpurri odor. :D)
But will you say “Gotcha ya!” just before you go up in smoke?
I can’t believe this thread got resurrected AGAIN.
That said, isn’t this a great thread? Damn, Eve’s post at the start of the thread is one of the funniest things ever written on the SDMB. And I so want to go to RickJay’s funeral.
(Not for a long while yet, of course.)
Gotcha ya!
:: sighs nostalgically, thinking of Mexican fat burners and bizarre debates about the First Amendment ::
Only because of my unadulterated adoration of Shirley Ujest and the fact that I absolutely bow daily in the direction of Eve’s comment do I contribute as well…
Eve’s post is in miny mind the funniest thing I’ve ever read on this board.
Bar none.
How do I emphasize this?.. it fucking slew me.
Shit. Don’t “miny” me.
Hell, I’m just happy to have the explanation to this long played inside joke. I’ve never been able to find this thread, (not that I looked overy hard), to find out where the ‘Gotcha ya’ came from. And no I wasn’t asking either!!! 
that should read ‘overly’ :smack:
It’s way past my bedtime…Say goodnight Gracie.
My wishes have been clearly stated to my wife and other family members. I wish to be cremated, then to have my cremains put in a metal box, which will be welded inside my suit of armour.
I had a friend in high school who wanted his body bronzed and turned into a “creative” fountain, so he could eternally be pissing on his own grave.
Wildest Bill is dead. Long live Wildest Bill.
IMHO , I think that funerals are for the greiving people. I don’t care what the heck they do with me, I’m dead. If they want to bury me so that they have a physical place to go to “visit” me, then so be it. If they want to burn me up and keep me in an urn on the fireplace, kinda creepy, but hey, I’m dead. What ever helps them get through that time.
Thrid time I’ve read this thread, and Rickjay’s post still cracks me up.
I think what I enjoy most is the combination of Eve’s post, and mouthbreather’s response and expansion on the “Ya” theme.
Sublime.
. . . Does the revival of this have anything to do with my recent post in the Andy Kauffman thread?
(P.S. Glad my comment slew!)
It’s so ironic that this thread has been revived twice.
Re vultures:
Guy: Aren’t you going to bury him?
Wayne/Eastwood/someone: Buzzards gotta eat, same as worms.
Shade - That was Eastwood in The Outlaw Josey Wales.
And I’m pretty flummoxed too. How did I miss this thread for so long? I was around then, yet all this time the “Gotcha Ya” thing has been a mystery to me.
At any rate, I told my wife and family that I just want them to build a huge catapult and fling me into the woods during a big party.
Well, when I’m dead, that is. 
Ah, a classic. Love this thread. It was one of the first ones I read when I joined (found it linked from somewhere), and “Gotcha Ya!” has become a big part of my life. I say it when I’m feeling sad, and it cheers me up.
That’s a true story. Take from it what you will.
All Hail “Gotcha Ya”!
I want to be cremated, then have the ashes packed into a shell. This shell would then be fired from an avalauncher up above Little Cloud at Snowbird, Utah to safely bring down an avalanche. When the mountain opens, people can ski across my scattered remains. Live or dead, it’s about being “one with the mountain.”
A few months ago (early November, I think) I was reading the comics at my Mom’s, and saw a Non-Sequitar which showed a woman lying dead of a heart attack in front of a gravestone, and a big flag reading “GOTCHA!” was sticking out of it.
I couldn’t explain to my Mom why I was rolling around on the floor—“it’s not that funny!” she kept saying.