I wasn't feeling particularly morbid when I picked this classic up, but I was ready to be rocked by a total takedown of the Undertaker!* And it just didn't happen for me. Part of me enjoyed the prose, and part of me was outraged at the amount of money that the undertakers, cemetery owners, florists, and so on were able to gouge out of grieving families. But a little voice whispered in my ear: But what if you want a really tricked-out coffin? I know it's culturally relativistic and bullshit of me, but all cultures do have their own funeral traditions and we should honor them all, and not get mad at undertakers for... well, being undertakers. It's not their fault they want respect, we all want love and affection, even if we spend our time writing scholarly articles for "Casket Monthly."
Maybe if I was at risk of being embalmed and put on view myself, I'd care more, but as far as I can tell I'm in line to be dumped in the ground ASAP in accordance with religious tradition. Personally I'd like to end up like Jeremy Bentham, but maybe that's a bit much to ask.
* Does anybody remember what the name of that guy was that hung out with the Undertaker, and had the spoooooooooky voice? A question that haunts me to this day.
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