Friday, August 31, 2007
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Read more at Wikipedia
Saturday, August 25, 2007
There's really not alot that you can say about this topic... it evidently happened during the winter, but I just came across it. This story (out of the UK) is bizarre in that it actually happened. It was reported that human ashes were used to grit a path at a Co-op funeral home where workers mixed the remains of cremation ashes with grit and scattered them on a disabled ramp outside to prevent customers from slipping on it during wintery conditions. One worker said: "Sometimes when families ask to get relatives' ashes back, the plastic container for them is too small.""Sometimes when families ask to get their relatives' ashes back, the plastic container for them is too small."This wasn't every time but every now and then there were too many remains."Instead of getting a bigger container, the spare ashes were tipped into an emptied-out bottle of embalming fluid which also contained grit." Workers at a Co-op parlour claimed their boss laughed about the grotesque practice, which they said has been going on for years.
In addition, staff allegedly sold used coffins as new and one family was even given the wrong ashes. Needless to say, police were investigating. (source)
Friday, August 24, 2007
A TV story on Wild Bill Hagy. Aired on Evening Magazine in Baltimore in 1979. He died August 20, 2007.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Monday, August 20, 2007
The concept is macabre – volunteers donating their bodies to be cut up in anatomy classes – but what students learn from working with their first real cadaver is invaluable.
Fashionable girl? Like the Rockabilly, Punk, Goth scene or just like being unique? Or perhaps you are going to a Halloween Party? Want something unique and different. Get Go Retro is selling Skullerflies (handmade by Lucky 11) uniquely original barrettes made of feathers with a "day of the dead" skull in the middle. They are really cool looking and can be worn on other days that "Halloween" but since that holiday is coming up -- its' something to think about. We are also carrying their Hair Roses with Skulls inside. Check them out. Very affordable! Oh yeah, and did I say this is a little bit of shameless self promotion : ) ?
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
"I’ve decided that my wisdom about the blog world is SOOOOO vast that I should share my knowledge and exceedingly good taste with you, the lesser mortals.
Um…. maybe that’s taking it a bit far.
But I want to share with you the great blogs I find. Especially if they’ve got some really kick…. um…. Kick-butt content.
So here’s one I just found, read for a few minutes (or hours, I wasn’t keeping track) and just had to share: Embalmed to the Max
Written by a mortuary student from Kansas, the site features recent topics ranging from death-predicting cats to the fifty worst eulogies to a profile of a journalist who writes obituaries.
Funny? Oh yeah!
Irreverant? Sometimes. And I like it. It’s good to hear the opinions and topics that interest new funeral professionals.
Check it out!"
Thursday, August 02, 2007
- She died as she lived: oddly dressed and smelling vaguely of turpentine.
- Death is not an end, but a beginning. Specifically, the beginning of an eternity of black nothingness.
- He had many hobbies, and he was very proud of them. He had that rarest of gifts: the ability to find the beauty and artistry in the hardcore amateur farm porn he shot with his Super 8 over at Oakville Community Stables.
- He touched all of our lives. Unfortunately, he also touched several of our children.
- Bill was not a rich man. He was not a proud man. He was not a successful man. Nor was he especially attractive, articulate, or even remotely respected. Neither was he particularly well-liked or hygienic. So I suppose, what I'm really trying to say is... there's cake back at the house and if we hurry, we can probably catch the second half of the Bulls game.
- The French have a term, "le petit mort." It is ironic that in his obsessive pursuit of this so-called "little death," that Dan's own flawed autoerotic asphyxiation techniques should lead him to such a big, honkin' drawer-soiling demise.
- There's no getting around it: Bob was a big, fat, sweaty pig of a man, which means that now, there's more pie for the rest of us. Dig in!
- And through our tears of grief, let us endeavor to never forget the flatulent hilarity that ensued each time Uncle Mikey graced us with his presence. Surely the Seraphim themselves are pulling upon his finger at this very moment.
- I loved my son! I loved my gay son! I loved my gay, tax-evading, alcoholic, armed-robbing ex-convict son whose real father was a crackhead street hustler who went by the name "Little Miss Meat Saddle!"
- And while it is truly a tragedy when someone so young is taken from us so unexpectedly, it is doubly heart-wrenching in circumstances such as these, when a promising career in direct-to-video adult entertainment is cut so terribly short.
- His spirit will be with us always. And by spirit, I mean overwhelming credit card debt.
- She was a woman well ahead of her time, whose near-legendary promiscuity set the gold standard for generations of post-Women's-Lib tramps.
- Hers was a pure, goodly, and chaste life, which helped to ensure that her heart, liver, and kidneys were especially desirable on the organ transplant black market.
- Tom consumed life with zeal. Positively gorged himself on it. In fact, if life was the frozen carcass of an extinct mastodon, partially emerged from a shrinking glacier, Tom was the ravenous jaws of a starving coyote, blindly feasting upon its gamey, semi-decayed goodness.
- Behold our beloved grandmother... her crooked, nagging maw silent and still at last.
- And let us pray for Earl's sake that they have reruns of "Mama's Family" in heaven. Or God help God.
- Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to honor #456-B's life before consigning him to lot #5, space #A-16. Praise God.
- Ladies and Gentlemen: Put your hands together for everybody's favorite stiff: Marty! I know you're wondering how Marty got to the funeral home from the hospital - he drove his CARcass! Har! Har! Try the veal!
- I still can't get over that he's gone. I also can't get over that I totally survived that same car accident! Can you believe it? I should have had my head cracked off like what's-his-name here.
- Let us give thanks that the Lord, in his infinite wisdom, took our dear sister to heaven in her prime, thereby proving his benevolence and love for us all.
- He used to look up at me and it was so difficult to talk, because he had four or five chins, and he'd wheeze, "Just fifty… more… pounds." And then he'd eat seven or eight Twinkies and a couple of cheeseburgers. I've never known such steely discipline. He died reaching for a dream.
- I don't think I'll ever get over him. But if anyone wants to try and help me, I'm in the back by the boxes of wine.
- I hope she's in a happier place. But let's be honest: you don't get struck by lightening during a sunny day because God loves you, you know? Still, we can HOPE.
- Frankie Two Thumbs wasn't a bad guy. You know what I'm talkin' about? He could make a mean baked ziti. And he smelled good, always with the fancy cologne. So it is with deepest respects that we fill his stomach with concrete and toss him in the East River.
- Steve wasn't unhappy about life. He was just super excited to die!
- What can I say about the recently deceased? I didn't know her personally, but members of her extended family have contributed generously to my parish. God bless!
- As the proprietor of this funeral home, I can honestly say that never before has such a magnificent sample of corpus delicti crossed over my embalming table.
- A last wish is a last wish. So, according to his will, we will now shoot Ted out of this cannon into the ocean while the local high school madrigals sing "Yesterday." Man, even dead he's high maintenance.
- She seduced my husband, spread vicious rumors about me, and got me fired from my dream job. That's all I want to say really, I just want to be in the front of the line when we start burying the bitch.
- Without further adieu... who wants to douse the coffin in gasoline and who wants to hammer this broken broomstick through the asshole's heart?
- I loved him more than any other man. Sure, sometimes I peeked at others, but that's completely natural. And okay, sometimes I squeezed, grabbed, and stroked too - but that doesn't mean I didn't love him with all of my heart.
- Ashes to ashes, dust to dust - wait a second - that's a nice ring. Anyone mind if I try it on? Not like he's gonna notice! Anyone?
- Okay, whoever painted Dad up like a circus clown better confess now, or I swear to Jesus Christ when I find out who it is, I'll bury them WITH him.
- I remember old Harry. We had some good times. Like the time we were driving drunk on that dark road and ran down that old lady and kept on driving. The memories come back, don't they?
- And finally, let us meditate on his last words - "Warm up my goddamned bedpan you ungrateful, good-for-nothing retard before I -ACK!"
- The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. Except maybe less debt, because once those vultures are done picking through the will, I'm gonna be left with enough money for a whiskey sour, a hot fudge sundae, and a roll with an octogenarian streetwalker!
- For whom the bell tolls? It tolls for thee. But later. The bell really tolled for Carol here. Tolled so much she mysteriously caught fire after the third car ran her over.
- I'm sorry… I don't usually get choked up. But anyway, sprinkle a little of Jenny's ash in the bowl and pass the ceremonial bong. We promised her we'd smoke her up, man. And we are!
- It's always sad when God calls a child home. But in the case of Larry here, I'm not so sad. Nice guy, smoked too much, whatever. So to Larry - nice knowing you, see you later.
- I have already apologized to his family, and to his friends. But let me do it again: I am sorry for stealing my best friend Dave's body and doing that funny "Weekend at Bernie's" thing. But it was our favorite movie - and dragging him around to a bar seemed like the right thing to do. I had no idea he was so... delicate.
- As you know, Jeff bought the ranch while doin' his favorite ho, and I like to think he'll have that great big gap-toothed Jeff-grin on his mug for all eternity. Yo' and if you see a skanky-looking blonde with tattoos on her hands driving a black beemer, call the cops - the bitch took his keys!
- Here lies my son, Mr. Rich Big Shot. You'd think he could spend 25 cents on a phone call to his mother before killing himself in one of those fancy hotels with the bidet and everything.
- My husband's funeral is going to cost me almost ten thousand dollars. So forgive me if I'm pissed off that he's not wearing any pants! I paid for pants! I don't care if the coffin covers his waist. Furthermore: Stanley never wore rouge!
- We all knew Chris to be unusual in life… as well as death. Anyway - he really, really, really wanted y'all to eat this paté. He force-fed himself with oats and stuff for weeks before kicking off just to make sure the paté had a smooth, rich flavor.
- I never screwed Cynthia. But I wanted to and God knows I tried. Even now, in death, I'd have to say I still wouldn't kick the broad out of my bed.
- One more toast to the old bum! God rest his soul! And may we all stay oblivious to the crippling irony of a bunch of emotionally immature alcoholics getting bombed so that they can pretend to deal with the death of a friend who was so drunk he killed himself and a family of six sitting in the window of that Arby's at the intersection.
- What happens to us when we die? I have no idea, but holy fuck am I terrified. And I'm a priest, for the love of Christ!
- In conclusion: I want each of you - all four hundred of you - to join me in song and take up the little milk bones that were just passed out. Take up the milk bones and toss them in little Poopy's casket. He'll need them in Doggie Heaven!
- I know you're shocked to see me here, but listen: a verdict of innocent is a verdict of innocent. High priced lawyers and head in the refrigerator or not, I'm innocent and I'm gonna miss this bitch as much as any of you bozos.
- I'll never forget the last time I seen him. He was all, "Betcha $50 I can wrestle a 'gator." And I was all, "You're on!"