And Now for a Funerary Gala

I've actually planned it, kind of. You know, just in case. Let's have no squabbles about any of this in the wake of any kind of demise. Since this is now public, let the record show that it should happen as written, lest I haunt your ass.

On timing: First, there will probably not be a temporal relationship between the actual date of death and this whole gala thing. Seriously, death is such a bummer. I would think people would want some time to recover from all that business before having to go to an event of some kind. The lag time could be up to six months. It really depends on who's in charge of this thing and which season it is. Of course, with the lag, we run the risk of everyone forgetting about it all together. But if you let some time pass, then people can process the shock and actually get down to having some good memories and some good fun. (Exclusivity clause: if you've read a death notice for me with arrangements pending, do us a favor and don't die in the interim. Only one gala allowed at a time.)

On embalming and whatnot: Let's just get this out of the way first off. I have decided to forgo the traditional preparations and casketeering. Just stick me in a blast furnace and turn it up to 11. I hate having to freaking look at a casket the whole time I'm at a funeral anyway. No one wants to think about that. They want to be surrounded by pictures of the dead when they were in their prime.

On said memorabilia: Of course, only youth is celebrated. Notice how in Titanic Kate Winslet is magically transported back to her teen years after she dies at the age of 104 or whatever. People always seem to be remembered at the ages of 15-30. Or is it just me? I'd prefer that only photos from 18 onward be used. Cuz things were mostly memorable in an awkward way during those teen years. Some baby pictures are acceptable.

On cremains: Since we established that I shall be cooked down to ash (like my favorite bacon), I'd not just simply waste the cremains. When I was married, we had a deal that if one of us should croak at an unacceptably early age, the other should cremate the former, book a cruise, and dump the ashes off the aft of the ship after embarking. Then hit the bars. However, while it doesn't actually violate international maritime law, the cruise lines frown heavily on dumping so much as a gum wrapper overboard. How about glass blowing? There's a glass studio in Seattle that makes Christmas ornaments out of Mt. St. Helens' ash. So, come to my funeral gala, leave with a party gift of holiday ornament. Take me out once a year, enjoy some sparkle, and shove me back into a box for the next 11 months. Someday, the cat or your kid will knock the ornament off the tree and you'll go, "Oh, hell. Well. It's kind of a relief that I don't have this dead person in the midst of my holiday joy anymore." If you have a special glass request (i.e., bong, candlestick holder, stained glass window...), be sure to request it well in advance.

On the funerary program: Since I have no religious custom anymore, I'd not have it in a big echoey church. Have it at an art gallery. A wine bar. The French countryside. I don't care. You guys are the ones who'll have to sit through this, not me. There should be multiple acts in addition to whatever eulogies people think they want to deliver. Just pass the conch shell around. Music will play you off after 90 seconds, though, so be ready. Also, can we get a gospel choir? A standup comedian? A cabaret? And at some point, I would like a prerecorded video to begin playing (yeah I'm kind of expecting that the COD won't be 'dump truck vs. pedestrian' tomorrow), so I can speak to you all FROM BEYOND THE GRAAAAVVVVE. Just fyi. So you don't get scared.

On the dress code: Now, we don't have to get all Dowager Countess Grantham of Downton Abbey on this, but for Chrissakes, put on some grownup clothes. I will work to earn you celestial favors if you should opt for, say, a 3 piece suit, or gloves and a hat. Guaranteed positive life intervention by your favorite deity if you should opt for a birdcage veil or mantilla. Do NOT show up in a hoodie and jeans. I will arrange to have you struck by lightning on the spot, or chronically haunted. And don't mistake me for some candy-ass poltergeist. There will be no question as to whether paranormal shit is going down in your house. I will break all your good shit. You will be cold all the time, no matter how high you turn up the furnace. Your pets will freak out. I will write on the wall in blood and/or feces (mental note: remember to figure out how to arrange blood/feces media in the afterlife?)

On refreshments: Let's not be crass. Let the champagne/microbrews/vino flow freely. But given the depressing nature of the event, maybe arrange for some uppers, too. Hire a legit caterer, please. Go through my cookbooks and find the pages that are most worn out. Make that food. Lots of it. There should be at least 1 cake for every decade I survived. It is reasonable to supply one or more pies to those who are averse to cake. But those people probably shouldn't even BE there. You know who you are.

On condolences, etc.: You are expressly forbidden to use the phrase "passed on" or any variation thereof. Call a spade a spade, man. Also refrain from "She's with god now," or "She's in a better place." None of us know that. Evidence based condolences only, please. Also, don't apologize for any of it. If you're broken up or angry about death, just say that. That's what the conch is for! Should you feel compelled to send flowers to anyone, consider one of the following instead: donating to Doernbecher Childrens' Hospital, the American Cancer Society, Make a Wish Foundation or your local Welsh Corgi rescue, or if you're poor, just sit and watch any of RDJ's film repertoire as if I'm there with you (ongoing commentary encouraged).  

Good. I feel that we've covered the important things. The rest of it will be up to the event coordinator. Now I'm off to start a Pinterest board to keep track of all the good ideas.