Obits
by Bob Iozzia
As I was
checking my local newspaper’s obituary pages
in search of a recently deceased acquaintance, as
well as yours truly (don’t roll your eyes—you
know you do it, too), it struck me that the
smiling photos of most of the dearly departed
belie their present condition, which is dead. It
is also incongruous with the circumstances that
lead to their current dead condition—from a
long and courageous battle with cancer to a drug
overdose.
By the way, I didn’t find the acquaintance’s
obit (boo) or mine (yay).
As I’ve become a veteran human of a certain
age, I find I’m craving more reality in my
life. Fantasy has served me well all these years,
especially before I met my wife, but it’s
time to put on my big boy Depend. Therefore, I’d
like to suggest to those of you older folks who
aren’t feeling so well lately that you or
someone you trust take a photo of you sporting an
appropriate “Oh, crap, I’m dead”
facial expression.
I am in no way suggesting that you impersonate a
corpse; just don’t smile like an idiot
… and don’t wear those stupid French
Foreign Legion-looking Zembo hats or even an
Eagle Scout leader uniform. You’re a damn
grownup, for chrissakes; act like it for once in
your life (and forever in your death).
One other suggestion before I double-check my
newspaper, and this is for whoever is responsible
for writing the obituary. I can’t believe
that everyone who has passed was a “devoted,”
“beloved,” “loving” or “dedicated”
whatever. Let’s face facts, people. Many of
us are pricks, bitches and evil assholes in life.
Death will make us saints?
I’ve seen one or two realistic obits through
the years that were obviously written pre-death
by the subjects because they threw shade on
others, not themselves.
Ladies, your “loved one’s” demise
is your last chance to finally get even. Instead
of describing someone as a “devoted husband,”
say, “George was devoted, alright—devoted
to chasing every tattooed young thing in a tank
top. And beloved? Yeah, by every bartender within
a ten-mile radius of home.”
Men, you can get your revenge, too. Try honesty
in describing your spouse. It’s okay to
write something like, “Sheila was a loving,
dedicated wife. Riiight. She loved torturing
me about chasing every tattooed young thing in a
tank top and was dedicated to
driving me to an early grave because of it. Who’s
driving now, Sheila?”
I’d love to expound on this subject, but
that will have to wait for another day—“Wet
Tank Top Young Things of Tattoo Town” is on
in five minutes.
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