I've got it all figured out.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

When I die don't you burry me at all...

Where do you want to go when you die?

No, I don’t mean heaven dingi. (That’s plural for dingis.). I mean what do you want done with your remains?

Because there sure are a lot of fancy ways to dispose of your corpse these days.

A company called Celestis will load a portion of your remains into a capsule and fire into space. I wonder what they do with the rest?

According to Celestis' website, you can have your ashes shot into orbit, launched onto the moon or just have them take a round trip to space and back. (At least there’s no chance of you burning up on re-entry, hardy-har-har.)

No thanks. I hate space. There’s nothing up there but NASA’s garbage and now dead people’s garbage.

Another option is to sign over your remains to science. Or better yet, sign it over to Gunther von Hagen. The guy that does those plasticized bodies for that  Body Worlds exhibit.

No shoes, no shirt, no skin… no problem!

I went and saw the Body Worlds exhibit a few years ago when it came to the Ontario Science Centre, pretty amazing stuff. Even more mind blowing was some of the entries in the guest book at the end of the exhibit. I still recall a few quotes:

Smoke weed everyday niggaz!

Too many gross dead balls.

Yes, someone decided that the best way to describe their feelings about the exhibit was to crudely draw the Puma logo in the guestbook.

Makes you want to tell Gunther to start mixing the plastic right now.

The problem with choosing Body Worlds as your final resting place is that not only will you be forever gawked at unappreciated by the type of dildos that signed that guest book but you never know what sort of pose your body will be put in. I could be doomed to an eternity of playing Steve Vai’s talking guitar in Yankee Rose.

Or my final legacy could be a hand plant tribute to the Bones Brigade.

Sk8 or Die!

Still, it’s better than being put in a fancy, overpriced box and shoved in the ground up at some cemetery where no one wants to visit you. You’re only chance of any entertainment there?

Some Goth couple getting caught making out on you.

This shithead kicking over your tombstone because he thinks your last name sounds Jewish.

Or someone spilling toxic waste on your grave so you can come back as a zombie.

Oops, that’s not a zombie. That’s a Jombie!

Yeah, screw it. I don’t want to do the grave thing either. I think good old Lux Interior from the Cramps had the best idea. God rest his rockin’ bones.

P.S. I almost ruined my Cramps T-Shirt in the wash last night. What ever doesn't kill it makes it stronger.

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