Sunday, July 04, 2004
Death becomes you
So I've been focussing pretty exclusively on politics for the last little while, and it's become kind of depressing. Time to move on to something more uplifting, like death. More specifically, it's time to move on to the question of what to do with one's remains when one is no longer making productive use of them.
I got to thinking about this question on Father's Day, when my father happened to consider out loud the question of whether, as long as he was in the neighbourhood, he might want to stop in and say a quick hello to his father's ashes. From here emerged the story that my grandfather - baptised a Mormon, later to found the atheist branch of Clan Smith - left this world without any parting instructions beyond "No goddamned funerals". Apparently, this had lead to some indecisiveness on the part of the Next Of, to the point that his ashes remained in a plastic container in my father's closet for quite some time.
Now, as much admiration as I have for the point of view of the patriarch, I'm too much an egomaniac not to want a funeral. I want a big one, and I want to M.C. it myself via videotape. If my death comes to suddenly for that to be feasible, I want a standup comic there, making as many off-colour jokes as possible. I also want an all night wake on Webboard where people say nice things about me. Got all that? Good.
The question of what I want done with my remains is a little tricker, because, unlike with the funeral thing, I have to be choosy. While there's nothing precluding both the all-night Webboard wake *and* the standup comic, things become a little more exclusive when you're talking about making permanent alterations to my soul's vessel.
For example, I'd like to be stuffed and mounted in Council Chambers, where I could glare disapprovingly down on the proceedings for all eternity (and, doubtlessly, have every bit the effect on the outcome of votes as I do now). If I did that, however, I wouldn't be able to be cremated and then flushed down the toilet, as so brilliantly suggested by a grade school teacher of my mother's. And doing either of these things would make it more difficult to have some select pieces of legislation printed on my skin, which would then be bound into a volume. You get the idea.
Anyway, with any luck I'll have at least a decade more to figure this out. On another note, it would really help me figure it out if some of you assholes would leave the occasional comment - my comments section seems to have become moribund.
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So I've been focussing pretty exclusively on politics for the last little while, and it's become kind of depressing. Time to move on to something more uplifting, like death. More specifically, it's time to move on to the question of what to do with one's remains when one is no longer making productive use of them.
I got to thinking about this question on Father's Day, when my father happened to consider out loud the question of whether, as long as he was in the neighbourhood, he might want to stop in and say a quick hello to his father's ashes. From here emerged the story that my grandfather - baptised a Mormon, later to found the atheist branch of Clan Smith - left this world without any parting instructions beyond "No goddamned funerals". Apparently, this had lead to some indecisiveness on the part of the Next Of, to the point that his ashes remained in a plastic container in my father's closet for quite some time.
Now, as much admiration as I have for the point of view of the patriarch, I'm too much an egomaniac not to want a funeral. I want a big one, and I want to M.C. it myself via videotape. If my death comes to suddenly for that to be feasible, I want a standup comic there, making as many off-colour jokes as possible. I also want an all night wake on Webboard where people say nice things about me. Got all that? Good.
The question of what I want done with my remains is a little tricker, because, unlike with the funeral thing, I have to be choosy. While there's nothing precluding both the all-night Webboard wake *and* the standup comic, things become a little more exclusive when you're talking about making permanent alterations to my soul's vessel.
For example, I'd like to be stuffed and mounted in Council Chambers, where I could glare disapprovingly down on the proceedings for all eternity (and, doubtlessly, have every bit the effect on the outcome of votes as I do now). If I did that, however, I wouldn't be able to be cremated and then flushed down the toilet, as so brilliantly suggested by a grade school teacher of my mother's. And doing either of these things would make it more difficult to have some select pieces of legislation printed on my skin, which would then be bound into a volume. You get the idea.
Anyway, with any luck I'll have at least a decade more to figure this out. On another note, it would really help me figure it out if some of you assholes would leave the occasional comment - my comments section seems to have become moribund.
