Wednesday, November 19, 2003

I went to the Funeral of an acquaintance today.

I hate going to Funerals, especially ones like this one. The guy was 41 years old and leaves behind a wife, four year old daughter and whole lot of friends.

It was a typical southern funeral, nothing dramatic, just a great deal of sadness.

I really made me think.

If I go in an untimely fashion, I want to make a freaking spectacle out of it. I want a bagpiper playing Johnny Cope and Cock o' the North, to heck with Amazing Grace. I want the Mariachi band to play that. I want a Catholic priest and a hellfire and brimstone Baptist preacher who climbs over pews and froths at the mouth. I want 'em to have a theological debate that breaks out into a fistfight. Hell, throw in a Buddhist monk and a Navaho medicine man too... I want to make my Pallbearers wear kilts or Zouave uniforms with big purple Sombreros or Viking helmets, or something like that anyway. I want to do whatever is most ridiculous and annoying to the most people.

Let's make sure that I offend everybody.

The way I look at it, I'd rather than everybody be pissed off at me than sad about my passing.

'sides it'll give all the old hens something to talk about for the next three generations.