This is a clipping of an obituary that was in the newspaper this morning.
Amazingly, I still see people on the internet who claim that COVID-19 is only dangerous to the elderly, and theyʼve lived long enough and should vacate their homes to make way for new generations.
Selfishness and stupidity seem to go hand-in-hand.
When the National Museum of Funeral History tells you not to open a casket, you do not open the casket.
No one ever said on their deathbed, “I wish Iʼd spent more time cleaning the toilet.”
Unless they were dying of dysentery. Then, maybe.
“I wish Iʼd spent more time scrubbing grout,” said no one on their deathbed ever.
Iʼve decided that grief is an ocean: it comes in waves. The waves get bigger and the waves get smaller and sometimes the sea is calm. The tide still comes in occasionally from my fatherʼs death, and that was almost 25 years go. I expect this will happen with my mother, as well.
As of this week, more Americans have died of COVID-19 than died in the Vietnam War, the Korean War, the Revolutionary War, and the War of 1812 combined.
Iʼm fascinated that Gladys Knight looks like she might just outlive us all.
After a hard nightʼs haunting, this is where ghost town ghosts go to kick back and relax.
Meanwhile, in Nevada… a dead brothel owner whom the newspapers say police suspect was poisoned by 1990ʼs “Hollywood Madam” Heidi Fleiss after going for a midnight drive with diminutive porn star Ron Jeremy following his 72nd birthday party with a bunch of hookers has won the 36th District.
Did I mention thatʼs heʼs also dead?
I ate so many Doritos when I was a teen-ager that I may die, but Iʼll never decompose.
The last burial in this cemetery was in 1911.
So the lesson we learn today is to forget fancy Italian marble. If you want your grave marker to last 107 years, have it made out of railroad ties and punched metal.