Light the (Interplanetary) Beacons

Like the Great Wall of China, my funeral will be seen from space.  First things first—you can’t actually see the Great Wall of China from space. (1)  It’s just a myth.  But everyone still believes it for some reason, so I chose to use it in the first line of this blog post.  Don’t like it?  Get your own blog and talk shit about my blog.  Please.  I could use the publicity.  I promise to talk shit back to help you out as well.  Before you know it, we’ll be in an epic internet battle, the magnitude of which is only surpassed by Jesus’ and the Antichrist’s battle during Armageddon.  Or Jodi and I fighting over the last slice of cake.  Mmmmm, cake.

Where was I going with this…?

Oh, yes.  I want to be cremated when I die.  Funerals, in general, suck turds.  I’m not a fan.  I mean, not a fan of funerals.  Huge supporter of Death, though.  Love his work.

When a person dies (fun part!), what follows is a physical, emotional, and psychological shitstorm—clusterfuck, if you will—that no decent person should be subjected to ever.  There’s dealing with funeral homes, funeral costs, histrionic and crazy relatives, being made to feel like you’re an asshole if you don’t agree with the emotionally charged decisions of others, and generally being made to feel guilty if you don’t agree with everything the craziest person in the bunch says or feels.  Additionally, you may find out too late that besides a signature or two, your presence really wasn’t required at said funeral, so you’ll wish you’d never even made an attempt to show up.  The dead person doesn’t care, and the survivors will make you feel like shit.  Like I said—a physical, emotional, and psychological shitstorm-slash-clusterfuck.  Funerals are for sadists and the clinically…not completely sane.

So, in an effort to minimize the pain and suffering of my wife (Jodi/JoJo/Boo), I am planning on a direct cremation upon my death.  This means that when I die—as long as it’s not suspicious* and they don’t have to do an autopsy or anything—then my dead body will go directly to a crematorium, I’ll be cremated, and then the ashes will be delivered/given to Jodi.  No muss, no fuss, and the extra money set aside for my funeral and from my life insurance can be used by my surviving spouse for something important—like a Jet Ski or a Fondue fountain—or a cure for the illness I died from that she probably caught whilst sitting at the side of my deathbed.  Ya’ know—the essentials.

However, there’s one little thing about cremation that I have to consider when planning for my eventual (and probably fast-approaching) death.  Cremating fatties can cost more money—and I’m a tubbly sumbitch.  Crematoriums are not always equipped to deal with larger bodies, so if you’s a biggun, you may find that your body has to be shipped out to be cremated. (2) That’s right—you’ll be slapped on a flatbed** and driven to a different crematorium like a Mardi Gras parade float.  Maybe people will throw beads.  Hopefully it happens on Fat Tuesday.  That would just add to the chuckle-factor.

I’ve been to Mardi Gras.  You don’t have to show body parts to get beads.  Those things are flying everywhere at all times—just grab some as they whiz by.  Be prepared to duck, too.

Another important factor in cremating bigguns is the fact that 1 pound of fatty tissue burns more quickly and intensely than the same amount of lean muscle.  In fact, one pound of lean muscle gives out 1,000 BTU’s when burned, whereas one pound of fatty tissue gives out 20,000 BTU’s.  A body with excessive fatty tissue will also burn longer and hotter than a non-obese body.  A cremation chamber is not necessarily equipped to deal with that amount of heat for that long.  (3)

So, I figure that when they light me up, it’ll be like a beacon—but it’ll burn so brightly and for so long that it will be interplanetary.  Surely the astronauts in the I.S.S. will look out a window, gaze down at earth, see my funeral pyre and whisper “What the shit? Is Gondor calling for aid???”***  Of course, it’s likely that any mosquito within a hundred miles will be driven away due to the heat, flame, and smoke that my body emits.  Something good I can do for my fellow man.  If I die in winter, I’ll provide a day’s worth of heat to surrounding neighborhoods.  And at the absolute least, I’m willing to put good money on the fact that I’ll at least make the surrounding area smell like bacon is frying.

Good news, though.  While I am correct in stating that cremating an obese body is more costly and time intensive, it’s estimated that a 300 lb body only costs an additional $50.  For every 100 extra lbs, add another $50.  Experts warn to specify when making arrangements that the deceased is a biggun. (4) Actually, give a specific weight—“biggun” is a subjective term.  And from here on out, look for the beacon announcing my death.

Until next time…

 

* If I feel so much as a twinge in my chest, I’m scribbling “Jodi did it” all over the walls in black marker, just to be sure that she is investigated.  Just for funsies.

 **I have nothing to support this statement other than I hope it is true.

 ***The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King reference.  Yeah.  I’m that guy.

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