Death of a Blogger

Reading the papers and watching the telly, it seems like God's been doing some mortal spring cleaning. Johnnie Cochran, Frank Perdue, Mitch Hedburg, Pope, Terri Schiavo, Saul Bellow, the creator of Brenda Starr. People are getting knocked off left and right by Killy McGee, and it's not just boring normal people like usual -- but important celebrities and award winning peeps!

Then I watched the movie Eulogy a couple of nights ago. Pretty funny. Ray Romano redeems himself for the piece of eye cancer that was Welcome to Mooseport. The point is, that movie (obviously) also deals with death. Add these two factors into the swirling morbid obsession that festers in my brain, and POOF! you have today's post.

To wit -- What if I died? What if in all the hoopla over these great people I was quickly ushered off this mortal coil? Or wound up in a persistive vegetative state only to be pranced about on screen like a demagogic puppet? How would anyone know my final wishes?

They would find my funereal preparations on my blog. So for all y'all out there, when I do leave this decrepit Hot Dog stand that we call Life, here's what I want to go down with my funeral:

First off -- it's an outdoor event. None of that stuffy mortuary or funeral home stuff.

Also, not to get semantic about this or sound like Seinfeld, but why do they call it a funeral home? Funerals don't really reside there; not in any permanent residence kind of way. in any case. They are transitory affairs, here one day gone forever. How about Funeral Clubhouse? Not only is that more accurate to the purpose of the buildings than Funeral Homes, but it is definitely more inviting. "Want to go to the Funeral Clubhouse to say goodbye to Aunt Helen?" "Do I!" See how happy they are?

I want it to be outside on a really nice day. So that means check the weather report. Sure, some would want rain to make the whole thing seem dramatic and epic. That's not my style...well, not my funeral style anyway. No I would like for it to be a nice and sunny day. So if I kick off during the gray wasteland of winter, the funeral will be held off until Spring or Summer. A festive time when people can celebrate life and nature. So some folding chairs are in order. A couple of tables for the food. And of course a banner. One that says "Bon Voyage, Le Singe Nevrotique". Let's keep it light.

Secondly -- Open bar. I want a bunch of kegs and a wide selection of alcohol. It's a party, people. Y'all are sending me into the afterlife. You wouldn't sit around with hangdog expressions if I was moving away to start a career in other town, would you? No! You'd all be happy and celebrating in style! Puking on shoes, hitting on people inappropriately, it's all good at my funeral! But -- Let's try and shield the youngsters from being exposed to this. They don't need to be marred when Uncle Keith keeps trying to engage them in debate or dance with them.

Also, lots of good snacks. I'm talking 'bout Toquitos, Nachos, Crab Rangoon, mini Quiche, Scallops Wrapped in Bacon, and -- yes, that perennial symbol of grief and mortality -- Pigs in a Blanket. Scarf it down, fuckers. If I wasn't pushing up daisies y'all know I'd be joining in witchu!

Thirdly -- Music selection. Forget the hymns. They're so played out. "Jesus this" and "Heaven that". Booo-rrrriiiing. So I want some good music, music that I liked and is appropriate for the occasion. Here it is -- Dean's Dead Mixtape Edition:

"We're Gonna Be Friends" by White Stripes

"For the Widows in Ypsilanti, For the Fatherless in Paradise" by Sufjan Stevens

"Another Lonely Day" by Ben Harper

"Pale Blue Eyes" by The Velvet Underground

"The Fragile" by Nine Inch Nails

"The Vagabond" by Beck

"Flim" by Aphex Twin

"Prince Caspian" by Phish (studio version -- I don't want no 7 hour drum solo jam band riffing at my funeral. Also let's cut down on the amount of hippie dancing that happens.)

"All is Full of Love" by Bjork

"The Transfiguration" by Sufjan Stevens

"Tracks of my Tears" by Smokey Robinson and the Miracles

"Do You Realize?" by The Flaming Lips

"Perfect Day" by Lou Reed

"Labor Day" by Aesop Rock

"Give Up" by Aimee Mann

"Knock Yourself Out" by Jon Brion

"Midnight Train to Georgia" by Gladys Knight & The Pips

"Always on My Mind" by Elvis Presley

"Something" by The Beatles

"Oh Sweet Nothing" by Velvet Underground

"God Only Knows" by The Beach Boys

"Monkey's Gone to Heaven" by The Pixies (obligatory?)

and lastly a singalong to "Takin it Back" (for those in the know)

The other songs can all be chosen by my friends and family. Also, this music is only to cover the service portion of my funeral. The rest of the evening will be karaoke. I want some drunken screaming of Billy Idol and Berlin goin on here, k?

Fourthly -- the service. I don't want a eulogy. I don't want a sermon or any scripture readings. I want a quick summary of the life I wish I had lead. I'm enlisting my friends who knew me enough to know what I wish I could've been. They would tell fantastic and thrilling stories like How I freed Atlantis from the cruel robot overlords of Venus, and then got to hook up with Carla Gugino before I took my rocket skates for a spin around the globe. Stuff like that. Also Anecdotes of me being an ass and embarrassing myself a thousandfold. All those Good Times that none of us can really remember recounted one last time before I'm shipped off into the Gulfs of the Unknown. More importantly, I want people to talk about their own memories of their own lives. Funerals always make people think about their own mortality, so why not talk about how great their lives have been. I don't want people to mourn my death; I want people to celebrate my life, dammit! And more importantly, I want them to celebrate theirs! Be happy you're not dead! Reflect on what life means and have a good time doin it! I'm giving you a chance at an existential kegger; don't pass this up, fool!

The service will also end with a 21 (or However Many My Pansy Liberal Friends Can Scrounge Up and Actually Work) Gun saltute. Preferably done in time with some track from Jock Jams.

Finally -- my remains. I want to be cremated and split up into several different little pouches. Each Pouch is made out of satin and has a mysterious and elaborate "D"embossed on it; in short, it needs to look like a prop from Dragonslayer. Each pouch will be taken by a person or team to one of the designated spots around the globe.

The pouches will be emptied into:
Atlantic, Pacific, Indian, and Arctic ocean.
Gibsonton, Florida
Trinity, New Mexico
Tokyo, Japan
the Outback, Australia
Amazon River
The Valley of the Kings, Egypt

Or, if possible, I wish to be used as smoke bombs for whichever friend of mine FINALLY becomes a costumed crimefighter.

My funeral will not actually exist within any real sense of space/time -- so that means you can smoke cigarettes and still consider yourself a "former smoker"; you can drink and call yourself sober; or hook up with other people and still be monogamous. What happens at Neurotic Monkey's funeral, STAYS at Neurotic Monkey's funeral.

Or maybe I'll just change all these rules in a year. But for right now, this is how I want my one TRUE day of rest to go.

And if someone could invite Tara Reid to come and flash a titty, it'd be appreciated.