Nobody likes to talk about death, but I just read an article suggesting that when you are pronounced clinically dead, you still can hear what is being said around you.
Well, it would be very interesting to hear what people would say if after whispering: “I left a million dollars under…” you took the last train to glory.
The semi-defunct might hear things like Old bastard! Son of a motherless goat! Blundering buffoon! Fopdoodle! Ass dandruff!
As a general rule, I avoid talking ill about people I know. But in the past, I felt that I could speak more candidly about the dead. Not anymore it seems.
Now, for fear of hurting the corpse’s feelings, I will hesitate to say, “No big loss. He was a drunkard and a cheat.” I might be more nuanced in my appreciation.
The world is changing. When I was a young man, I never heard of transgenders; now it seems that they are popping up everywhere. Not That There’s Anything Wrong with That!
People of the same sex didn’t marry. Not That There’s Anything Wrong with That!
Nobody relied on a phone for directions or advice… Not That There’s Anything Wrong with That!
And what about parking? In my heyday parallel parking without power steering was quite a feat. Today a car can park itself… and even converse (and argue) with you.
So a still contemplative dead person would not be that extraordinary after all. Soon, the departed will be communicating with you through Siri.
Hey Siri, tell that dude in shorts to f**k off? He is getting too cheeky for my taste.
“For three days after death, hair and fingernails continue to grow but phone calls taper off.” Johnny Carson