The colossal squid caught by NZ fisherman in the Antarctic recently was truly a rarity, a wonder of nature and a reminder that its kind have been populating this planet before humans came along. So why the fuck didn’t the bastard fishermen leave it where it was, doing its own thing, instead of dragging it out of its home and killing it?
A potential cancer killing drug is left on the shelf. Why? Guess! Then read the post on Psipook here.
In December a close friend of mine died, and in January I attended his funeral in the UK. The guy was 43 when he died. We had known each other since school.
The funeral was a simple and moving affair conducted in a church near Poole. It was very well attended as he was a popular fellow. People flew in from the States and came from all over Britain. After the service there was an interment in the cemetery. People cried.
It did not escape our notice that our departed friend was a rationalist, an atheist, an original and free thinker and had no time for bunk. A church service is not what he would have chosen for himself and he had never lived in the Poole area. I don’t specifically know what he would have chosen for himself, though I suspect it would have raised eyebrows if not the attention of the police.
Of course, the funeral was for the family, and we all behaved ourselves.
The music was Bob Dylan’s Tambourine Man, which was chosen by a couple of friends and is an excellent choice, not only because the departed was a huge fan of Dylan, but the tambourine man is the guy who leads funeral processions in New Orleans.
My friend’s mother had asked me whether her son had expressed any funeral preferences when he was alive. No, he hadn’t. As I say, he died unexpectedly at the age of 43. At that age who has expressed funeral preferences?
Well, me. I have. I expressed my first preferences when I was 23. I think I was trying to impress the girl I was with at the time. I got laid. Try it.
My plan was to be interred in a full whisky cask under the floor of my favourite pub, which at the time was the Three Crowns in Stoke Newington, London. At my funeral, the music would be provided by the Birthday Party and possibly the Dead Kennedys — how about ‘Too Drunk to Fuck’ as a going away song? Hallucinogenic drugs would be freely distributed and funeral goers would be invited to dance on my grave.
That was when I was 23. Since then my musical tastes have diversified a little, and while still a fan of the Birthday Party and the Dead Kennedys, I think I might adjust the plan a bit.
I think that Stereolab’s Cybele’s Reverie would be a good sound track. The lyrics are in French, so I have no idea whether they are appropriate to anything other than my inability to learn another language, but the song is ecstatically happy and full of itself, so that will do.
Priests are permitted so long as they don’t actually pray or commend my soul to God or do anything vaguely priest-like. If there is a God, I suspect that He or She will be sufficiently omnipotent and omniscient to know what to do with my soul when He or She sees it.
I still like the idea of the whisky cask interment so long as it is a single malt. Glenmorangie for preference, but I suspect that those who survive me will find the idea distasteful and would like to drink whisky untainted by my cadaver.
How about something simple and uncontroversial like burial in a bio-degradable coffin with a tree planted on top of me? If this could be arranged in the middle of Stoke Newington High Street, so much the better, but failing that any green and leafy spot will do — Stoke Newington Common for example. Or perhaps I could be buried outside Conservative Party HQ where pigeons could roost in the branches of the tree and shit on the Tory grandees as they go in and out.
So there you have it. If I should keel over tonight from, say, not drinking enough, you will know what to do with me. However, I am very much working on drinking an ample amount to see my being through to the next bottle.
Au revoir and not goodbye.
In the place of any proper posting, I offer a link to YouTube. The link was supplied by Lance Shields to whom I am now in debt. I wonder if he will accept my children as part payment.
I have lots of thoughts in my head banging to get out but little energy after the labours of the salt mine, the family and the litre of wine I am obliged to drink each day. This video conveys a lot of what I am thinking thereby saving me the trouble of explaining any of it myself.
Here it is: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lWWKBY7gx_0
And thanks to Lance for pointing it out.