Weekend at Joe's

I got my first whiny threatening email the other day. You would think it would be an angry Obama supporter attacking me for my criticism of the president and his politics or maybe some radical religious crank attacking me over some other "immoral" comment I've made. Nope. It's all about the OPP, baby. "The Pussy Monologues" which was something me and friend had written over a year ago is what got this reader all in a tizzy. Maybe I'll post the email sometime for fun. It's actually quite hilarious. The email also strangely enough got me thinking about funeral viewings and funerals. I think I need to get a few things off of my chest.

Now I'm not trying to be insensitive or tasteless with this post. I understand that there are no such things as "good" funerals. It's always a sad process for those left behind to grieve. However we have all been to at least ONE funeral which was just just...let's say...RIDICULOUS.

I mean you go to the funeral viewing and its all haughty and uptight and you know that the person who died would absolutely hate everything going on. I mean I know if I were put into a ridiculously overpriced suit and they play classical or ambiance, I swear to God I will come back as a shaken beer can and explode on every single person involved in the planning of that event.

I've made it very clear to my friends and family that if I am to die prematurely and before them my funeral viewing should be as close to a house party as possible. When I say house party I mean stereo cranked, people playing beer pong (on my coffin baby) and pizza. I want kegs of beer being rolled up the funeral home parking lot. People can get smashed and go home happy. My family can get down with them. Call up the priest and he can bring some holy water that they can mix with vodka, punch, and fruit. That's right. I want Holy Jungle Juice. It will be the party to die for. Literally.

I do not want to be buried in a suit. I want to be buried in a V-neck with flower board shorts and flip flops. That's me. It doesn't get any more basic than that. That is all I wear. If it isn't a friend of mine's wedding or I'm not getting paid or laid; this guy ain't dressing up. I couldn't even care less if they got a coffin. Hell prop me up in the corner with a Coors. Weekend at Bernie's can kiss this ass. It'll be a weekend at Joe's.

However in the event that I do have a coffin there is only one place on Earth that I want that coffin purchased from...

Cost-effing-co.

There is nothing funnier to me than the idea of being buried in a coffin that was purchased from Costco. I mean how do you even manage to buy something like that from Costco Wholesale??! Everything there is packaged in industrial bulk. DO YOU BUY THEM IN CASES OF 12???! "Oh Marry Jane just went down to the Costco down der' and picked up Billy's coffin with some boxes of taters for ya'll." That would be fantastic. It would be even better if the coffin reads COSTCO WHOLESALE on the side.

The funeral procession would go like normal. It'd be great if I'm transported in the back of a Chevy pickup. READERS NOTE: This detail is merely made to insult any General Motors hierarchy possibly reading the blog and fuming that I called it a "Chevy" and not a "Chevrolet". Bitch please. I've got a Chevy Impala. I'll call a Chevy a "Chevrolet" the day when your car company actually goes back to making real cars.

Personally I think the idea of being buried is too cliche. I want to get shot out of a cannon or strapped to a rocket and launched into orbit. It I'm cremated please let it be a bonfire. If by any circumstances these alternatives are impossible to follow through on or illegal; allow for me to be used in the benefit of medical science. I know one thing for sure. I've got a hell of a liver. He's a real champ for sure. I'm pretty sure that somebody could also benefit from my legs. They may fall up the stairs a lot but I'll be dead and somebody else will take my place as gravity's bitch. Not my legs anymore? Not my problem. That's what I say.

Until next time...

Peace & Love,

Joe