And lately I’ve noticed a disturbing trend: funerals are no longer formal affairs. Instead of suit & ties for guys and nice dresses for women, it’s now come as you are. A friend recently told me, “I can mourn you in any way I want.”
NO YOU CANNOT!
You WILL mourn me, and mourn me long and hard, the way I say. Heading to the beach to stare at the setting sun and pondering the circle of life is NOT how I will be mourned. So before my number comes up and I’m called to eternal glory where I’ll be greeted by throngs of trumpeting angels, thunderous applause from across the galaxies, and a high five from Patrick Swayze I want to lay down 5 rules for my own funeral.
1. It is an invitation only event. No one gets past the bouncers or crosses the velvet rope without their personalized invitation and photo I.D. I’m not kidding, they WILL be checking I.D. at the door.
2. There is a STRICT dress code. Men must be in full tux, and I’m talking BLACK tux not any of these retro “look how cool I am” white or blue tuxes. Women are required to be in floor length ball gowns.
No exceptions. Violators will not only not be admitted but will be taken around back and severely beaten.
3. Everyone must cry. I want tears people, tears! There will be none of this stupid “It’s a celebration of life” crap. I’m dead! I want people wailing in horror over the loss of my brilliance, I want people overcome with grief to the point of fainting, I want children cursing the day they were born over my death. And if you’re one of the people I have already chosen to give my eulogy (that’s right, I’ve already picked the people) I want you sobbing tears so hard that they drown out your ability speak, just stand there and openly weep for 5 minutes.
4. No food will be served. Anyone who knows me knows that I’ve spent my entire life buying lunches and dinners for everyone around me. Don’t expect me to feed you in death, you ungrateful deadbeats.
5. Finally, and most importantly, this WILL be an open casket funeral. Each mourner will be required to stare at my dead, cold, beautiful corpse for a total of 6 minutes. No exceptions.
There’s a 94% chance I died in some heroic act of stopping an armed 7/11 robbery, pushing a family of blind immigrants out of the way of an oncoming bus, or prying a swimmer out of the mouth of a great white shark. So look at my dead body! And feel free to take pictures with it. In fact, everyone who posts a picture of themselves with my rotting corpse on their Facebook page will be given a commemorative “I was there!” funeral T-shirt.
So as we begin 2012 and move closer to my future death, let’s remember that funerals are meant to be classy affairs. Keep shorts, sweats, & miniskirts in the meth labs & Burger Kings where they belong.
Since selling his production company, Digital Imagery Productions, in 2007 Chris spends his days kayaking, enjoying the beaches of California, searching for the perfect snowcone, & traveling the globe inspiring both young & old not to spend their lives being a waste of skin. There’s no doubt that his life is better than yours.