I fancy myself a pretty observant person. I watch. I listen. I notice behaviors and details. And more often than not, I mutter childish commentary under my breath about said observations. The more obnoxious the detail, the better the chance that I have noted it and quipped some snarky response just quiet enough for the evil-doer to think that I said something....but not be 100% sure. I'm a child. This is no secret.
One thing I just plain don't get is the roadside memorial. I can't speak for the rest of the country, but it seems a pretty common occurrence driving around town, at freeway ramps, busy intersections, etc. Wherever there has been an accident, the victims family and friends often build a makeshift shrine out of a black and white photocopied picture, clear plastic slip cover, twig cross and a half melted candle. I understand feeling the desire to remember a life lost. But the roadside? Right where it happened? In the wind and the rain? Never to be revisited or tended to? That I don't get. Not only does it seem like a huge bummer to force yourself to remember the location of a horrible accident every time you happen to drive that direction.....but to halfway go to the trouble of making a memorial and then just leaving it there to erode and fall to pieces just seems lame. Worse than not doing anything, in my opinion. Actually, a certain friend (who shall remain nameless, but will be linked to) and I have discussed this at length. If either of us do get off'd in an accident, there will most certainly be a twig shrine, complete with a grainy photocopy of our picture, protected by a plastic slip cover.....but with the opening of the cover up so the rain can get in and smear the picture even more. Cause ya know, that the sort of thing I live for ...snarkiness and irony, even in death.
Point is, we suck at death. The weeping. The wailing. The gnashing of teeth. More often than not, I envy the guy who gets to sit this one out (if you know what I mean).Funerals are horrible, cemeteries suck, and those half-assed roadside markers are the absolute worst.
You know who does death right? Mexico.
However, while the welcome wagon is ready and rolled out, I didn't get a solid sense that anyone was really certain where it was goin'. I think she's holding out hope for San Francisco. Why else the flower(s) in her hair?
|Seriously, this is just amazing. Absolutely beautiful.|
Wherever we do end up when we die, I take peace in knowing that I won't have to worry about reaching things on the top shelf.
What's that, you ask? I'm not completely sure....but the 'woman' had a very impressive goatee.
And all of that nonsense about 'heaven for the climate, hell for the company.' We can go ahead and put that to rest right now. It was a beautiful evening and Johnny Ramone was there. Myth...busted. Score one for climate and company.
Moving into the Question/Answer portion of the evening...
Yes, all dog's do, in fact, go to heaven. Suck on that you, "Oh no.....you can't bring that dog in here," people.
And just for the sake of a good time, in this mausoleum, there were skeleton cheerleader's celebrating death through interpretive dance, and a blue velvet Jesus with blown glass googely eyes, hung on a Celtic cross of bones....because anything else just wouldn't make sense.
|*photos courtesy of the Good Doctor|