Or how about,
Better yet I could have one of those portable arrow marquees with the flashing lights
The flashing arrow would be pointing at my grave.
This would heighten the amount of attention I will get when I’m dead. Even the dead need to be haunted by the living, yes? Or, it will let the living know which grave to avoid. If you disliked me when I was alive, try me when I’m hosting maggots on my face.
(It’s refreshing to know I can use the same sign to advertise my deadness as I use for comedy shows.)
To add the amount of visitors, we could add an Arrow marquee outside the cemetery gates,
And ad the caption: DEAD INSIDE.
Which pretty much captures how I feel on any given day.
However it could have wider implications. That’s the cool thing about language. If it’s any good, it says way more than you planned on. When it’s bad, it uses a lot of words to say anything other than what you meant. Which is which, at any given time, is truly up for grabs. To decipher what is meant you need a psychologist or a pundit. What is the difference between the two? The size of the audience.
I imagine though that the Arrow Marquee Gravestone sitting at a grave site could be confusing, because the arrow could be interpreted to mean a general kind of deceased-hood to the left or the right of the arrow, depending on which way it is situated. Generally the arrows don’t point at the ground. Might the arrow indicate which direction my ghostly self went? Because I’m just not the type to say, “sure I’ll live in this hole for all eternity now because I’m just so fucking peaced-out.” I’m more likely to say, “Okay, okay I’ll stay at least until the grave diggers arrive.”
Grave diggers. Now there’s a trade that’s gone out of style.
I love how literal many cultures of the world have been and still are, burying things that the deceased will need in the next life. In that case, I want to be buried in my pick-up, with a lot of money, Grey Goose martinis, cowboy boots, cigarettes, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, a functioning right hand for orgasms, and some cats that have already died. I don’t want anyone killing cats so that I can have company in the afterlife. Or people. Actually in that case, I’m just hoping there aren’t any people in the afterlife. Just cats.
(No these cats aren’t dead.They are all alive. Meow. Button and Onyx.)
The people I do love (and you know who you are), I wouldn’t wish my afterlife on. Especially if they are allergic. If I truly love them, I will not ask them to spend eternity with me of all people. And really I can’t imagine anyone-except one-that I wouldn’t get sick of around Year 3 of Forever.
So to create less doubt about where I am when I’m dead, I should probably get an arrow that points towards the ground instead of towards perpetual ambiguity. West? East? Southwest? Another grave? Oh down there.
And on the marquee we could write “Debbie lies here.” Like in the westerns. Or the even more instructive, “Here lies Deb’s body,” just in case people think the soul doesn’t have other things to do.
I think the lying part is probably the only thing that will be accurate.
The Grammar of the Dead
But hold on a minute: The Dead are things, so shouldn’t it be “lay?” I’m the object someone else’s action. So, shouldn’t the marquee read, “Debbie got laid here?”
Because if I’m a dead body, I’m not lying or laying myself down anymore. (If I am, I shouldn’t be in the cemetery and someone-I’m hoping it wasn’t me-has made a fairly tactless, not to mention gruesome, error. Several of them in fact.)
Now, no doubt irate grammarians and people sensitive to dying, perhaps even those who have dyed…or is it day?- whoops I’ve been in lay, la, lie, land too long- Maybe even those who have died, will write in to correct me on various points.
For those of you for whom this has opened a Pandora’s Box, (I hope you are a pagan, or whatever box you just opened can’t exist), I offer the following thoughts: No God would be lying. We hope. The “God lies” is also a problem, especially since he appears to be doing it not only right now but in the future indeterminate. And with God being Himself, He is never the object of anyone’s action per se, and being a Thing went right out with the Protestants, so God never gets laid, anywhere, no matter how hard He tries…which explains a lot, pushy evangelism, the Old Testament, witch hunts and a little hobby called The Inquisition. . .which really should be called “An Inquisition” or maybe “A Really Big Fucking Set of Chronic Mistakes.”
For those of you who are feeling irate at me (and I can’t say I blame you because I have felt the same way), I have this to add,
“I think I’ll go with cremation.”
I couldn’t deal with the CC& R’s!
Anyway, who needs a location when you’re dead? I’ll omit the obnoxious tombstone too, especially the possible defaming, “I’m with stupid.” Although if I had the arrow on the marquee turned to the nearest gravestone, perhaps that would clear up some questions and maybe not get me tossed out of the cemetery for heresy.
Of course calling Satan stupid is probably not a bad idea. We should start calling Trump that so the brainless minions can understand what he really is and isn’t.
There’s just less complication without a body (I’ve been saying that forever). The Arrow Marquee can just indicate which way the wind was blowing when my best friend (or if things really go badly…or is that bad?), or a complete stranger, throws my godforsaken ashes into the wind.
“She went West,” the Marquee will read, just in case the mourner has failed to bring a compass, moral or otherwise.
The Laughing Coyote