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ARTICLES OF DEATH
A perfect die job
Given the fact that death comes too early to most of us, and given that all too often we hear someone explain their actions on behalf of the deceased with the words, "He would have wanted it that way," I can draw only one conclusion: No one can really say what someone would or would not have wanted; the best we can do is say, "Well, if I were dead, this is how I would want it." In this divine light, I have decided to draw up my own guidelines for proper treatment of my remains. As a result, there can be no confusion as to the proceedings that should accompany my obviously all-too-untimely death and the empty years beyond.
I. I want an open casket. My death is presumably as unbelievable to me as it must be to others, so they should be allowed to gaze upon me and poke me until their disbelief is satisfied.
II. I should not be buried in a suit. Jeans and a sweater should be fine. I understand, though, if people lay claim to my clothes, and in that event I should be enshrouded in a simple sheet. People wearing excessive make-up should not be admitted.
III. A simple pine box should do -- the less permanent space I take up, the better. Cremation is fine, but I would much rather be buried in some ground that would benefit by my rotting, fecund body. I would rather have a copse of trees spring up at my corpse's resting place than a headstone. I do not want my body to be able to be exhumed at any point. Besides, most of my organs should live on in other people, specifically in case that my personality might manifest itself in a new host. My liver, for one, seems to be so headstrong that I can die assured it will continue to exhibit my desires. I only ask that it is not again paired with my bladder, its nemesis.
IV. I understand that my memorial service will be a sad affair; such is the nature of death. Still, though, it should be above all interesting. No readings from the book of Bromides. None of this "Do not grieve that I am gone," or "The Lord is my shepherd," or "Should I meet my death beyond the clouds" stuff. The fire of Revelations should be well-received, as should any Apocalyptic "I can't believe this bright soul is gone" kind of thing. Hilarious yet touching personal reflections are welcome, and they should be collected and bound in some sort of enduring best-seller format.
V. The more people who can attend, the better. Obviously, I want to win. Perhaps there can be something arranged to defray the cost of travel to the funeral. Copies of my death certificate should be made available at the rear of the church -- or in advance -- for those people using airlines that offer bereavement discounts.
VI. The reception may be the most important part of my death, even though the funeral might be better-attended. (I imagine my enemies would want to come to the funeral just to make sure, but they should not feel up for the after-party). I would like a nice Irish wake. That probably means that lodging must be arranged for many of the attendees, as even in death I cannot condone drinking and driving, or drinking and early rising. The wake should be held in the home that I love, or, if that is unworkable, some other suitable reception center. Alcohol must be free and plentiful, food delicious but light. My body should be present. My father, no stranger to a good Irish wake, has decreed that his body should be put to use. That is, both hands should be extended, each holding a tray of sorts. The mourner may then approach the kneeler and place his or her drink on one and his or her cigar(ette) on the other*. My father also requests that mechanics be engaged to allow one eye to suddenly flutter open. While I certainly appreciate this sentiment, all I ask for is a party atmosphere.
VII. Some rainy Sunday I shall draw up a recommended song list, but for now, let me just say that the environment should approximate that of a cast party. That is, everyone should be on the make. I know plenty of attractive people, and the fact that I am no longer going to be getting some should not mean that nobody else does. Songs such as "Let's Get It On," (of course), "Pictures of You," "You Make Me Feel Like a Natural Woman," "Your Love," "Carrie Anne," "Mrs. Robinson," "Midnight Train To Georgia," and other sexy or fun ones should be played well into the night. Decorations should be heavy -- dramatic and richly colored. If not enough single people are present, they should be recruited from the area bars. I would like to think, though, that most of the women from my past have been unable to engage themselves in steady relationships since dating me -- these are the prime ones to chat up. The theme should more or less be: "Brady is Dead; All Bets Are Off." "Taken" people should beware.
VIII. Lewd and inappropriate jokes are not only actually appropriate but promoted. Even lame ones like, "I could use a stiff drink right about now," should be encouraged, as they lead to other, more puerile strains of humor. How often do are you able to come up with pertinent corpse-befouling jokes? Take advantage of it -- I certainly don't mind. Those bouts of uncontrollable laughter in the back of the church make the situation all the more memorable. Continue to celebrate important dates in my life (if any of you bastards ever remembers my birthday) by going to bars that are called things like Death Bar or what-have-you.
IX. Someone should do a sweep of my living spaces before my parents get to it. Dirty clothes/sheets should be laundered. Dirty dishes cleaned and trash taken out. Dirty magazines and material (anything resembling porn, Victoria's Secret catalogues, SI Swimsuit Issues, etc.) should be properly disposed of or distributed to interested parties, not including the press. Don't worry about the random trove of women's clothing -- my parents have already seen those pictures, much to their amusement.
X. The clever person will be able to hack into my email, which is fine. Whoever succeeds at this should send out a general announcement of death to anyone in the address books. Then feel free to use the dummy account to write ghostly emails "from beyond the grave" to startled friends.
XI. At some point in the near future, I will hide something of great importance or value and leave a cryptic note on how to find it.
XII. There should be no limit to the children or pets subsequently named after me.
XIII. My death should be used as an excuse in any capacity for as long as reasonably possible. I am talking about things like kissing complete strangers, showing up drunk to work, not showing up to work, large purchases of real estate, murder, mail fraud, etc.
*Mine will be a No Smoking Reception. The last thing I want is for people to hazily recollect thirty years on down the line, "Oh, yes; Brady. Wasn't it his fetid cadaver that stunk of nicotine?"
Those are my Articles. Questions not directly answered by these guidelines should be answered through logical interpretation of my above-noted desires.
But let's face it -- I'm not ever going to die.
By Brady Richards
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