Immortality is the goal, isn’t it? Medicine wants to cure us of all our elderly ailments. Beauty supply companies want to stop us from getting old. But, in the end, all of this effort is only for something that is inevitable anyway.
As much as I’ve been obsessing over these new fine lines under my eyes that have become noticeably the last couple of years, I’m not finding a way to stop them. I’m trying to accept them. Embrace them. My twenties are behind me. Thirties don’t necessarily mean I’m dead. Just moving to the next phase of my physical being: A cougar.
Okay, not really. But if it happened, I can’t say I’d be too broken up. As long as I wasn’t being referred to as something like a skanky cougar, I think it’s a compliment.
But lamenting about aging is not the purpose of this blog. The purpose is to talk about death.
There are a few requests that I would like to have fulfilled in my exit from this mortal coil. Firstly, I must answer the question of whether I want to be cremated or buried.
I’ve always said cremated. Mostly because I find the process of burying my body to be a waste of effort, money, and space. But the more I think about it, especially the high cost associated with burial and cremation alike, the more I lean towards burial.
But then I think of the unsavory aspects of a burial. Maggots eating my brain. Centipedes nesting in my eye sockets. I know it’s not really me in that grave, but the symbolism of it all is not lost on me. Can my spirit rest in the midst of my hated enemy, the centipede, nesting in my discarded shell? I’d actually accept the maggots. Just not certain I can accept the centipedes.
Then there’s the ever pervasive worry of a zombie apocalypse. Do I want my decimated body lurching in the streets and ravaging human kind, feasting on their brains like a horror movie cliché?
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Sorry, it took longer than I expected to answer that question and I am definitely positive – mostly – that I do not want to exact revenge on humanity as a brain craving zombie. There’s got to be a better way. I’m sure something will present itself in the afterlife.
Realistically, though, what are the odds of a zombie apocalypse? Actually, don’t answer that question. Let’s just move on.
Cremation seems simple, doesn’t it? Reduce the body ashes, put it in a coffee can or something, and maybe spread them around a special place? But like a burial, cremation is expensive. Wouldn’t my loved ones feel better having something to show for the thousands upon thousands of dollars they will pay for my afterlife comfort? Cremation may be the simplest method, but burial is the better value.
Okay, burial it is then. And to enhance my afterlife experience, I would ask my loved ones to bury me with the following:
1. Orthopro Home Max – just douse me in the insecticide. I’m dead. I won’t feel the burn. But those ugly fucking centipedes will. Try to nest in my eye sockets now, you little bastards!
2. My top five albums for my listening pleasure in the afterlife:
Tool – Anemia
Ben Folds Five – Whatever and Ever, Amen
Incubus – Make Me
Nevermore – Politics of Ecstasy or Dead Heart in a Dead World. Either would be acceptable.
Tenacious D- Tenacious D
WARNING: Sappy moment to follow
3. The clay impression of Crumpet’s paw print so I can find my way to her in the afterlife.
4. Kleenex – because I know I’m the unlucky fucker that will suffer allergies even on the other side.
5. Advil – headaches are like my allergies.
6. Cell phone – with a full battery, please. Just in case I’m not really dead. I don’t have faith in my ability to bust out of a grave like Uma Thurman in Kill Bill.
7. Jim Butcher’s Dresden Files books – I like to read.
Well, I think that about covers it. I can’t be prepared for every afterlife scenario, but these should cover the basics.
See you on the other side, folks. Or maybe in this life again if the zombie apocalypse hits and I’m feasting on your brains. If you have to take me out, I prefer a clean shot between the eyes. Yet I know a brain eating zombie can’t be too choosey. So, if you take me out with a shovel to the back of the head or something savage like that, no hard feelings on my part, eh?
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