"In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes," Benjamin Franklin.
"The only difference between death and taxes is that death doesn't get worse every time Congress meets," Will Rogers.
"In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes," Benjamin Franklin.
"The only difference between death and taxes is that death doesn't get worse every time Congress meets," Will Rogers
From Cemetery Humor at Stories, Etc.
Harry Edsel Smith of Albany, New York: Born 1903--Died 1942.
Looked up the elevator shaft
to see if the car was on the way down.
In a Thurmont, Maryland, cemetery:
Here lies an Atheist, all dressed up
and no place to go.
On the grave of Ezekial Aikle in East Dalhousie Cemetery, Nova Scotia:
Here lies Ezekial Aikle, Age 102. Only the good die young.
In a London , England cemetery:
Here lies Ann Mann,
who lived an old maid
but died an old Mann.
Dec. 8, 1767
In a Ruidoso, New Mexico, cemetery:
Here lies Johnny Yeast. Pardon him for not rising.
A lawyer's epitaph in England:
Sir John Strange. Here lies an honest lawyer, and that is Strange.
A Washington Post story about Dave Barry's book tour made this oblique reference to his funeral plans (mimes, snipers, no camels) to which reader George replied:
Here is a wrinkle that I’ve been toying with. Beside the sign-in register (why do we have this custom?), my urn will be tastefully displayed, with a small mound of my ashes in a dish. Beside the dish will be a small spoon and a supply of small (about 1 inch square) zip-lock baggies and sign saying, “You say that George will always be in your heart – well here’s your chance to have him in your purse or wallet, too.”
And Dave Barry remarked "Don't try to take more than your share."
A few readers had some ideas, none of which I recommend, but all of which are funny.
Our ol bud Charley passed, and as he was a serious hippie Dead fan, he owned forty some hawaiian shirts, so for his service, [some kind gals washed them] they were on racks in the rear, and folks were invited to pick one out and wear it home in his memory.
I told my wife she could just pitch my ashes but she asked me what I would do with hers. I said I would find a tall, shiny urn with a fancy top and put it on the mantel. Then I could tell people, "That's my trophy wife."
This is what Russell J, Larsen had inscribed on his headstone in Lorgan, Utah, according to Snopes.
Despite what you may have heard, the following is NOT inscribed on his tombstone though it's pretty funny.
FIVE RULES FOR MEN TO FOLLOW FOR A HAPPY LIFE
1. It's important to have a woman who helps at home, cooks from time to time, cleans up, and has a job.
2. It's important to have a woman who can make you laugh.
3. It's important to have a woman who you can trust, and doesn't lie to you.
4. It's important to have a woman who likes to be with you.
5. It's very, very important that these four women do not know each other or you could end up dead like me.
From Bussorah comes the Pillsbury Doughboy Obituary
Veteran Pillsbury spokesman Pop N. Fresh died yesterday of a severe yeast infection. He was 71.
Known to friends as Brown-n-Serve, Fresh was an avid gardener and tennis player. Fresh was buried in one of the largest funeral ceremonies in recent years. Dozens of celebrities turned out including Mrs. Butterworth, the California Raisins, Hungry Jack, Aunt Jemima, Betty Crocker, the Hostess Twinkies, and Skippy. The graveside was piled high with flours as longtime friend Aunt Jemima delivered the eulogy, describing Fresh as a man who "never knew how much he was kneaded."
Fresh rose quickly in show business, but his later life was filled with many turnovers. He was not considered a very smart cookie, wasting much of his dough on half-baked schemes -- conned by those who buttered him up.
Still, even as a crusty old man, he was a roll model for millions. Fresh is survived by his second wife. They have two children and another bun in the oven. The funeral was held at 350 for about 20 minutes.
Gareth Branwn writes Playing my Widower Card
My friend Supa and I have a grim truth in common -- we've both lost our spouses. One of the other things we have in common is an off-beat sense of humor. These two forces collide on her Fresh Widow blog, and especially, with her Fresh Widow (and Widower) Cards.
Supa explains on her blog, Fresh Widow
One night in my support group, S. said casually that he’d “left work early… I just pulled a widower card.” I thought about how often I’d done this in the months since LH died, but more about how I could make good use of some little advantage.
I was always comfortable as an underachiever, but could I have some legitimate “cover” after surviving catastrophe? Something versatile? Something I could use every day?
And so the concept was born: Not as useful as a “get out of jail free” card, more powerful than a hall pass… it’s… it’s… The Widow Card!
A classic from Mary Tyler Moore
This made me laugh out loud.
After weeks of being sleepy all the time and never finishing his din-din at night, area daddy Howard Lewis was put in a bye-bye box early Monday morning so that he could go on a vacation with the birds and clouds in the sky.
Daddy, who was tall and strong and liked going to the hospital to play with their fun machines, was put in the bye-bye box at a big, white house where everyone had a party for him even though it wasn't his birthday. According to family sources, Daddy, 36, can't play Chutes and Ladders tonight, but he loved Ryan and his little sister, Rebecca, very, very much, and nothing is ever going to change that.
And this too. Grandfathers Accidently Switched at Hospital
Boots on, but on the wrong feet
One boot on, one boot off
Holding boots above head while crossing river
Boots on hands, creating sound effects for campfire story
Boots in carry-on bag, wearing an old pair of tennis shoes until he gets there
One old boot and one new boot, walking around Kohl's shoe department to see how they feel
— Nathan Thornton
An old Scot, Andy, lay dying in the Highlands and he called his lifelong friend, Jock, to his bedside.
'In yon cupboard is a 40 year old bottle of single malt whiskey' said Andy. 'When I'm dead I want you to pour it over my grave, will you do that Jock?'
Jock thinks long and hard about the whiskey and eventually replies. 'Aye, I'll do that Andy, but you'll not mind if it passes through my kidneys first.'
A passalong joke.
As a young minister, I was asked by a funeral director to hold a graveside service for a homeless man, with no family or friends. The funeral was to be held at a cemetery way back in the country, and this man would be the first to be laid to rest there.
As I was not familiar with the backwoods area, I became lost; and being a typical man did not stop for directions. I finally arrived an hour late. I saw the backhoe and the crew, who was eating lunch, but the hearse was nowhere in sight.
I apologized to the workers for my tardiness, and stepped to the side of the open grave, where I saw the vault lid already in place. I assured the workers I would not hold them up for long, but this was the proper thing to do. The workers gathered around, still eating their lunch. I poured out my heart and soul.
As I preached the workers began to say "Amen", "Praise the Lord", and "Glory"! I preached and preached, like I'd never preached before: from Genesis all the way to Revelations.
I closed the lengthy service with a prayer and walked to my car.
As I was opening the door and taking off my coat, I overheard one of the workers saying to another, "I ain't never seen anything like that before and I've been putting in septic tanks for 20 years."
This maybe urban legend is from Siggie though it ring true.
Family Member: “I am calling to tell you she died in January.”
The Bank: “The account was never closed, and the late fees charges still apply.”
Family Member: “Maybe you should turn it over to collections.”
The Bank: “Since it is 2 months past due, it already has been.”
Family Member: So, what will they do when they find out she is dead?”
The Bank: “Either report her account to frauds division or report her to the credit bureau. Maybe both !”
Family Member: “Do you think God will be mad at her?” (I really liked this part !!!!)
The Bank: “Excuse me?”
Family Member: “Did you just get what I was telling you? The part about her being dead?”
The Bank: “Sir, you’ll have to speak to my supervisor.” !
(Supervisor gets on the phone)
Family Member: “I’m calling to tell you she died in January.”
The Bank: “The account was never closed, so the late fees and charges still apply.” (This must be a phrase taught by The Bank!)
Family Member: “Do you mean you want to collect from her estate?”
The Bank: (stammering) “Are you her lawyer?”
Family Member: “No, I’m her great-nephew.”
The Bank: “Could you fax us a certificate of death?”
Family Member: “Sure.” (fax number is given)
After they get the fax:
The Bank: “Our system just isn’t set up for death. I don’t know what more I can do to help.”
Family Member: “Well, if you figure it out, great ! If not, you could just keep billing her. I really don’t think she will care.”
The Bank: “Well, the late fees charges do still apply.”
(What is wrong with these people??!!)
Family Member: “Would you like her new billing address?”
The Bank: “Yes, that will help.”
Family Member: ” Odessa Memorial Cemetery, Highway 129, Plot Number 69.”
The Bank: “Sir, that is a cemetery!”
Family Member: “What do you do with dead people on YOUR planet?!!
Chet Fitch planned his final joke for twenty years. Although he died in October, his friends got Christmas cards with a return address of "Heaven".
The greeting read: "I asked Big Guy if I could sneak back and send some cards. At first he said no; but at my insistence he finally said, 'Oh well, what the heaven, go ahead but don't (tarry) there.' Wish I could tell you about things here but words cannot explain.
"Better get back as Big Guy said he stretched a point to let me in the first time, so I had better not press my luck. I'll probably be seeing you (some sooner than you think). Wishing you a very Merry Christmas. Chet Fitch"
Life does not cease to be funny when people die any more
than it ceases to be serious when people laugh."
George Bernard Shaw
Rawlins Gilliland writes in Dying Laughing about the time his next door
neighbor Chuck died.
At the funeral home, his widow was hurt to see so few flowers in his viewing room. So, spotting a sea of unattended flora next door, I decided to briefly borrow a triumphant standing easel spray and placed it next to Chuck. Unfortunately, the family of the intended recipient began arriving. There was no discreet way to return their show-stopper from Chuck's room since the entire family was admiring his splashy arrangement, although confounded; who were "Denise and Tony", the names on the card? Feeling guilty, I impulsively entered a third room and purloined a carnation showpiece and delivered IT to the original man's congregation. However, when someone read this card aloud, inscribed, "We'll make love in heaven. Love, Marla", the dead man's significant someone became bellicose, bellowing, "Who the hell is Marla?"
A lawyer named Strange died, and his friend asked the tombstone maker to inscribe on his tombstone, "Here lies Strange, an honest man, and a lawyer."
The inscriber insisted that such an inscription would be confusing, for passers by would tend to think that three men were buried under the stone. However he suggested an alternative: He would inscribe, "Here lies a man who was both honest and a lawyer."
That way, whenever anyone walked by the tombstone and read it, they would be certain to remark: "That`s Strange".
via Wicked Thoughts
Via Tom McMahon
When filled with the Irish spirit, I am able to accept my losses and failures with greater grace. Which reminds of the time Paddy died.
His wife went to the newspaper to place his obituary. The newsman said the cost was $1 a word. "I only have $2," said Mrs. Paddy. "Just print 'Paddy died.'" The newsman decided that old Paddy deserved more. He gave her three extra words at no charge. "A kind man you are," said Mrs. Paddy. "Print me husband's obituary this way: 'Paddy died. Boat for sale.'"
Via Wicked Thoughts
Bill died, leaving a will that provided $30,000 for an elaborate funeral. As the last of the visitors departed the affair, his wife, Lynne, turned to her oldest friend and said, "Well, I'm sure Bill would be pleased."
"I'm sure you're right," replied Jody, who then lowered her voice and then leaned in close, "How much did this really cost?"
"All of it," said Lynne. "Thirty thousand."
"No!" Jody exclaimed. "I mean, it was very nice, but $30,000?"
Lynne replied, "The funeral was $6,500. I donated $500 to the church. The wake, food and drinks were another $500. The rest went for the Memorial Stone."
Jody computed quickly. "$22,500 for a Memorial Stone? My God, how big is it?"
"Two and a half carats."
Take a look see at "The Last Photo I Ever Took" contest.
From Planet Proctor via Tom McMahon
The day after her husband disappeared in a kayaking accident, an Anchorage woman answered her door to find two grim-faced Alaska State Troopers. "We're sorry, Mrs. Wilkens, but we have some information about your husband," said one trooper. “Tell me! Did you find him?!" she shouted. The troopers looked at each other.
One said, "We have some bad news, some good news, and some really great news. Which do you want first?"
Fearing the worst, an ashen Mrs. Wilkens said, "I guess you'd better give me the bad news first." The trooper said, "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, ma'am, but this morning we found his body in 200 feet of water in Kachemak Bay."
"Omigod!" exclaimed Mrs. Wilkens. Swallowing hard, she asked, "Um...what's your good news?"
The trooper continued, "When we hauled him up, he had a dozen 25-lb king crabs and 6 good-size Dungeness crabs clinging to him." Stunned and tearful, Mrs. Wilkens demanded, "If you call that good news, what could possibly be the great news?"
The trooper said, "We're going to pull him up again tomorrow morning."