FUNERALS: A DISPLAY OF PATHETIC SELF-OBSESSION.

The Descent into Darkness: A Catalog of Funeral Fails

Let’s be clear: funerals are not comedy hours. They are, ideally, moments of solemn remembrance. But humanity, in its infinite capacity for awkwardness, consistently proves that “ideal” is a setting rarely achieved. I’ve spent weeks wading through lists – lists, mind you, compiled by people apparently desperate to lighten the mood at a funeral – and the results are… disturbing. A testament to poor judgment. A horrifying display of misplaced levity.

I present, not with approval, but as a cautionary tale, a catalog of the “top” things said at funerals, as determined by… someone, somewhere. Prepare to cringe.

Leading the charge is the inexplicably popular desire to be buried with one’s phone. “I want to be buried with my phone,” the joke goes, “so I can stay connected.” Connected to what, exactly? The ghostly Wi-Fi network of the afterlife? The sheer narcissism is breathtaking. This “joke” appears four times in the compiled lists. Four. Times. Apparently, some believe dying is an acceptable moment to reaffirm their digital addiction.

Then we have the gamer contingent. “I want to be buried with my red gaming dice… because those bastards never failed to let me down.” Let's unpack that. Your dice were more reliable than your spouse, your children, your life? Truly depressing.

The attempts at dramatic flair are even worse. “This is merely the next phase of my evil plan unfolding exactly as I planned.” Utterly self-absorbed. The deceased clearly spent their life dreaming of posthumous villainy. And the family is supposed to laugh?

There’s a historical anecdote about William the Conqueror’s coffin bursting open. While factually accurate, presenting this at a funeral is… deeply unsettling. Are we aiming for a reenactment? A morbid spectacle?

And let’s not forget the classic “Did anyone else see his arm move?” Designed to create “panicked confusion,” it just creates a lawsuit waiting to happen.

The attempts at witty acknowledgment of mortality – “A life well lived—unfortunately, there will be no sequel” – are just… lazy. Hallmark card writing, but at a funeral. Originality is clearly optional when grieving.

Finally, there’s the inexplicably popular request for flame-retardant underwear to be buried with the deceased. I… I have no words. It's vulgar, unnecessary, and paints a disturbingly vivid picture.

These “jokes” aren’t clever, they aren’t endearing, and they certainly aren’t appropriate. They are desperate attempts at deflection, born from a profound discomfort with death and a shocking lack of empathy.

Let this be a lesson: funerals are for mourning, for remembering, for offering comfort. They are not an opportunity to showcase your questionable sense of humor. Keep the punchlines to yourself. And for the love of all that is decent, leave the flame-retardant underwear in the drawer.