This was on the Daily Post a week ago. What do you want your tombstone to say?
I don’t want it to say a damn thing because I don’t want a headstone. I don’t want to take up a plot of land in a cemetery. I have no interest in hanging out with dead people who I have nothing in common with. The thought of throwing thousands of dollars away on a casket makes me want to roll over in my grave. Also, I despise the idea of open caskets. I don’t want anyone looking at me after I’ve died. I think that’s really grotesque.
Make sure I’m cremated, then please take those ashes and spread them a la Osama Bin Laden. Better yet, bring me in a pink box to the Temple. I couldn’t think of a better place to be than Burning Man.
I dislike cemeteries. I don’t like going to them. I don’t enjoy visiting. When I’m dead, I’m dead. Don’t feel obligated to pay your respects by bringing me flowers. I don’t want people to do that. I’d rather they remember me in surprising ways. Like opening up a menu and remembering how much I loved to order french fries. Or breaking out a Scrabble board and remembering how I loved that game.
That’s what matters. Tombstone don’t mean nuthin.