Like many I have contemplated my own death. The actual way it goes down doesn’t so much matter to me. Whether its from horrible disease, car crash or random gang stabbing. The actual death doesn’t so much worry me.
After reading Huck Finn at I young age I got to thinking, if I were to attend my own funeral procession I would want it to be a mind blowing spectacle for both myself and the folks who showed up.
Funerals are too official, too gloomy, I am not saying I want one of those lame celebration of life type funerals where everyone wears whatever they want and goes wild drinking each other under the table while nudging each other and telling stories of my passing. No that’s not the way to do it at all.
I want to go out with pizazz.
Will there be Sarah MacLauchlan songs?
Fuck no. That is again far to gloomy. If there are tears shed, I want them to be tears of pure awe and amazement for the exuberant display brought forth to entertain one and all and send me off in fine style.
Keep the photo albums out of it for a little bit. I mean I am sure when we were going through the holiday snaps with you the first time you were bored enough, having to see them again when I’m fucking dead and you have to be polite about it, well yeah that’s just a waste of your time and mine. Even though I’m dead at this point I will still feel like your wasting time that could be spent doing something supreme.
Here’s how its going to go down. Show up at sunset alright. Perfect time of day, hung over or not you have no excuse not to show up. I mean shit its at sunset you have like a whole extra day to plan how to get there, from reading the obits to showing up.
Novelty ties are a must at my funeral, I am sorry but no exceptions can be made here. It is really the only wardrobe stipulation I am making, women can be exempt, but if you’re a man your rocking some kind of witty tie. I don’t care if you sling it over a t shirt, clip on, bow tie, bolo tie, who gives a fuck. Tie an electrical cord around your neck and make an ironical novelty tie. Id smile down on you for something like that.
Secondly I want to be burned, Even if I die in a really peaceful way and the body looks super lifelike and sweet, and I haven’t shit myself or rocking a huge boner. No matter how beautiful a corpse I make, which I know I will, just burn my ass.This is part of a greater plan.
Don’t get me wrong I still want a tombstone, Someplace you could come by maybe bury a little pinch of me in there, with a note that just says “gotcha!” for anyone brave enough to try and dig me up. The tombstone will be the staging area for my grand exit funeral.
Gather round my tombstone one and all.
As the sun is setting were going to roll out a whole bunch of pretty cool cars. Aston martin, Lamborghini, Maybe a classic Corvette, a nice Jag. Hopefully some of which I will have owned throughout my lifetime. The headlights are going to snap on all at once. The crowd will hush, clutching their breasts in excitement. Novelty ties flapping in the wind.
Car stereos are going to crank on all at once starting to very softly play February Stars by the Foo Fighters. There will be a grand show, with ballet dancers, carneys and cirque du soleil with a parade of elephants.
That is right folks, my funeral will bring together the sworn enemies cirque du soleil and animals. My death will allow them to see the error of their ways, and join forces in order to put on a show unlike any man has seen before. The kingdoms of both animal and French will meld together as one, forgetting the allegations of cruelty on both sides.
The ballet dancers will dance atop each car, the carnies will perform various stunts as an aside, and cirque du soleil will provide amazing acrobatics atop the elephants.
And this isn’t even the finale.
This show will boggle minds for generations. It will be the greatest five minutes of entertainment anyone has ever seen at a funeral.
No prayers, only shocking once in a lifetime spectacle.
This astonishing feat will continue until the buildup in the song, whereby this point my surviving spouse and or immediate family will want to avert their eyes for the display to follow.
When Grohl belts out the iconic, FEBRUARY STARS. Surprise! The ballet dancers are also strippers. At this point they will begin to strip and dance in a sexual manner around my tombstone.
As the women perform their manic sexualized dancing, the crowd can all turn their eyes to the sky as a gigantic flurry of fireworks begins to shoot off overhead.
I am talking fireworks that could shoot down a 747. I would like this funeral to be declared a national security threat from the finale fireworks.
Here is the tricky part. I know this has been done before however. I would like to be put into the fireworks. Yes that’s right. I want to be shot up into the sky overtop of all of my surviving friends and family. Showering you with ashes and light.
I realize this does not sound too appealing. The strippers may indeed get burned. I will set aside money for compensation.
Showering you in my essence would be both sexually satisfying from a dead mans perspective and a fulfillment of a promise to live on with each of you.
The car lights will fade out, the strippers will begin to dress, the elephants will parade back into their cages, with the carneys and cirque du soleil following to their respective cages.
The sun now fully down the attendees will hang around to marvel at what they have just seen.
My goal is to have at least one person utter “Best funeral ever”
That’s how I want to go out.
I realize ballet strippers, circus animals, carneys, exotic vehicles, ash fireworks, novelty ties and cirque du soleil will be hard to get, and enormously expensive. But to my friends and family, I am not yet dead, I have given you lots of warning, I think its reasonable to make this happen.