bush approval rating Brain Farts Brain Fart brain farts brain fart brain-fart brain-farts brainfart brainfarts LEO Louisville Eccentric Observer parody lampoon satire Louisville Kentucky Kevin Gibson kgramone@aol.com kgramone humor cat's ass fart anna kournikova zeitgeist bush approval rating
Brain Farts was a weekly humor column that ran in the Louisville Eccentric Observer from mid-2000 until the summer of 2002. It was, well, eccentric. And occasionally satirical. And sardonic. Some liked it, some hated it; some just didn't get it, and that's OK. There were times when I didn't get it either. I've compiled here some of the archives from Brain Farts for the enjoyment of friends, family and anyone else who happens by. I also have written some new Brain Farts, and added some links and other trivialities that you shouldn't be too concerned with.
Unless you're as bored as I am.
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Brain Farts: Death of a Funeral |
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By Kevin Gibson |
When I die, I want to be
cremated. And it’s not that I’m averse to having my body devoured by worms. I
just think funerals are really stupid and way too expensive.
For instance, I don’t get the whole idea of leaving the coffin open. The only
thing this does is give people the opportunity to walk by and say, “He looks so
peaceful.” (“I’m DEAD, you moron, of COURSE I look peaceful.”)
And what’s with the practice of everyone filing past the body one last time?
Haven’t we seen enough? It feels like a damned silent auction or something. All
you get is a long line of people that moves so slowly it forces you to either
stare at the body (weird) or look away (rude). Sometimes people even kiss the
body goodbye. Ew.
And in my mind, nothing could be worse for the bereaved than a funeral. Except
maybe to have people call you “the bereaved.” How many times does one person
have to hear, “How are you holding up?” (“Um, let’s see, my husband of 46 years
is dead and everyone keeps calling me ‘bereaved,’ and telling me how friggin’
peaceful he looks. I would think ‘borderline suicidal’ is probably about right,
wouldn’t you?”)
As a kid, whenever I went to a funeral with my parents I was completely
distraught. When my great-grandfather died, I asked my mom what they would do
with him. “They put him in a casket,” was her reply.
Casket? Talk about freaking out. I didn’t know what a casket was. I was 6, for
crying out loud. I envisioned some kind of cage they’d put my great-grandpa in
and put him on display like in a circus sideshow. (Actually, it isn’t much
different, when you think about it.)
Honestly, a funeral is only good for one thing: to save everyone the trouble of
organizing a family reunion. A couple years later when my great aunt died, I was
shocked by the mingling and talking before the funeral. It was like a
supermarket grand opening or something. I tugged at my mom’s dress and said,
“Why is everybody so happy?” Boy, did I get in hot water over that one.
The average cost of a funeral is somewhere in the $6,000 neighborhood, right?
Think of the party that kind of buckage would throw. I’m not kidding — when I
die, I want my family and friends to throw a big old party with lots of Bass
ale. And barbecue-flavored potato chips.
On second thought, maybe I just won’t die at all. I’d hate to miss the party.
And this way I won’t have to get all dressed up.
E-mail the writer at kgramone@aol.com Hurry, before he croaks.