Here's the deal - I'm healthy, happily married for almost a decade to a beautiful wife, have three wonderful children, a good job, a house, upward mobility, an MBA, great family and friends, and a 100% uncompromising belief in the afterlife as a devout Christian. That being said, this is not some pre-cursor to my demise that somehow goes viral and the authorities have to track down loved ones for information. 'Yeah he wrote this really weird blog post before he died.' Nope, not this guy. I'll either go out fifty years from now from natural causes, five years from now from a massive heart attack, or I will be offed like Andrew Breitbart or Michael Hastings for exposing our corrupt government. I have no plans to exit planet earth any time soon. I go when God wants me to go. Some of you are probably thinking, 'Well, I hope He gives you AIDS soon cause you are a real asshole. At least make him menstruate once a month.' Listen, if I make fun of everything else, the least I can do is make fun of my own death, so let me roll with this. Here are the arrangements, I hope my wife Colleen is taking notes.
Event #1A - The Wake
My wife and I have joked about funny ways to go and the things that would happen at our respective wakes. This is kind of like a living will, in blog form. Ok - funeral home needs to have a partition around the coffin, almost like a plastic sound-proof room. The people line up normal style (assuming people actually want to pay their respects, which I don't blame them if they decide to skip and go play Powerball instead). The Undertaker's creepy WWE entrance theme plays on repeat, setting the tone that this is going to be one sad event.
People cry, blow snots into hankerchiefs, and reminisce about...what exactly? I probably pissed off everybody in the room multiple times and they are there to pretend they liked me. Whatever. Psychics contend that most spirits actually attend their wakes before walking through the final death portal. I will be there AND taking notes assholes. You BETTER not be speaking bad about me. Of course, how can I blame you after what happens next?
Event #1B - The Viewing
The viewer then makes their way out of the parlor to the enclosed plexiglass viewing area. Cover charge of $5 will be given to the midget bouncer, with proceeds going directly to Alex Jones' Infowars website to help fight the New World Order and the globalist agenda. The mood slightly changes though. Blaring from a 1993 CD player (again, on repeat), is the 2000 smash hit from SoulDecision - 'Faded' (one of my favorite songs from college):
The visitors start to jive a little. 'I'm kinda glad he's dead, this is a pretty original experience.' Assuming my body is intact, it will be open casket. With a twist. My ugly mug will be there, with special instructions to prop my eyelids open. Find an eye speculum or something, either way it needs to be done. Lights on but nobody's home. I've already gone home to Christ at that point, so what happens to my balding, weird postured earthly body doesn't mean jack squat to me anymore. Let them be spooked out of their mind when they see me. Oh yeah, three more things. A device will be put underneath the casket that releases sulfuric smells, which triggers an automatic fart noise to be cued up every twenty seconds. Corpses can fart when they're dead. Google that shit. The casket will be open at the head and then.....south of the border. Aaaaaand I'll be naked. Yes, genius - the casket will open around my crotch and the first thing you will see is a fresh from the slab naked Armenian corpse. Sight for sore eyes. Vomiting may ensue. Shrieks of terror. Tears of disgust. Dry heaving. Fainting perhaps when they see the immense size. Ok now we're getting gross. But you can 'run tell dat' - double casket openings, naked body. Book it.
Event #2 - The Funeral
I want a really quick funeral. Catholic and Armenian funerals tend to drag. I want this to be fifteen minutes. I want my coffin to be treated like a bobsled, pushed by some oversized local weightlifters down the church aisle, and then olympic curlers start buffing the floor as the coffin slides into place in front of the altar. A couple friends and family members tell some funny stories, the kids can tell everyone all of the weird shit I would talk about with Mommy, and then the priest would tell a couple racist jokes, pick his nose, adjust his groin, belch periodically, and then spill a Sam Adams beer over my coffin, while everybody cheers wildly. 'Is it weird that I'm kind of enjoying this?' say a few of the mourners. Don't worry, it gets better.
Event #3 - The Celebration Dinner
We'll hopefully rent out a beach house in Duxbury, MA where I was raised to celebrate my death. Beer pong, cage dancers dressed like Legolas from Lord of the Rings, chilled monkey brains, truffle fries/truffle rice balls and a roasting boar on a spit. Jack Johnson playing in the background while people wakeboard during low tide. Confession - I have a chronic FOMO - 'Fear Of Missing Out'. If people are having fun, I need to be there. I guess it stems from having kids young. Whatever. I've been the mayor at all four companies I've worked for. I'm a freaking social butterfly. And I need to be there. Even in death. So put some clothes on me and string some fishing line through my appendages so I can move person to person like a dead Bernie and mingle. Make my dead mouth pretend to talk in my nasally voice. "Mehhhhhh global collapse mehhhhh new world order mehhhhhhh precious metals mehhhh I'm 32, dead and still watch professional wrestling." Make me dance around like a damn marionette. Again, lights on but nobody home. I'll be in spirit form giggling my nuts off. At this point, no one should be crying, there should be lots of laughter, drunken revelry, and hopefully some people making out in the bushes. 'He really stepped it up - I couldn't ask for a better corpse' a few can be heard mumbling. Everybody goes home happy before the next day's jarring finale.
Event #4 - The Disposal of the Body
Everyone is cranky, tired, and hungover from what was called 'the coolest death celebration party ever'. The last thing they want is an emotional send-off. 'Send-off'' being the operative words. You see, I have arranged in my will for a CATAPULT TO LAUNCH MY FUCKING COFFIN OFF A CLIFF INTO A QUARRY. That's right, we all make the trek up some really high cliff somewhere in the Northeast. We line up, and on the count of three, Colleen presses a button that sends my coffin FLYING two hundred yards and midway through the latch opens and my (back to unclothed) dummy carcass falls out, spread eagle, dick flopping in the wind and drops three football fields and smashes on the rocks below. Don't even bother retrieving it. Let the buzzards pick at my guts. I've paid off the local surgeon to surgically implant alka-seltzer tablets in plastic so that when they eat it and fly off, their stomachs explode and they make the plunge in similar fashion. Hopefully in the process they shit down in my general direction so it looks like some savage mutant shot his load all over my face. The end. Everybody go back to partying.
So that's how I plan on going out. Be nice to me so my wife invites you to the party of the year!!!!!
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