The title is stolen, in concept, from the All-Time Most-Excellent Country Music Title Ever: "Don't Monkey Round My Widder When I'm Gone"
That song is authentic and was popular enough to make it into jukebox distribution. It was a regular play coming back from go-kart races on Sundays. Chet Atkins, Doc Watson "Don't Monkey Round My Widder"
Dealing with the deaders is one of the bar-none damn strangest things people do and few since the Egyptians have raised it to such an ostentatious extreme as modern Americans although the absurdity of British state funerals is probably impossible to top. We decided some field research was necessary so we sent one of our reporters to the You Stab 'em, We Slab 'em Funeral Services LLC (i.e. Limited-Liability Corporation).
For background music during this investigation, we selected the famous, "Mortuary Man," by the Eurythmics.
Mortuary Man: How can I be of service, most esteemed and noble, sir.
Fritz the Cat: I am preparing for my own deadness and wish to inquire as to the appropriate services, costs, etc for conversion of my remaining carcass into something else, somewhere else.
Mortuary Man: If I understand you correctly, good sir, your wish is to more fully understand the nature of your departure from this wretched mortal coil to the golden Paradise beyond.
Fritz the Cat: Please permit me to help you understand, demonic-looking guy. I wanna know how it goes to plant my dead ass, alright?
Mortuary Man: It's always so refreshing to work with a man of directness and certitude and most assuredly your needs can be met here at You Stab 'em, We Slab 'em.
Fritz the Cat: That was my general thinking in entering your esteemed establishment of deathness but my interest, more specifically, is when.
Mortuary Man. Indeed, a man of immediacy. I so much admire a man of action and purpose and I look forward to entertaining your business personally.
Fritz the Cat: I can't tell you how much that tickles me fookin' heart, doc.
Mortuary Man: Speaking of tickling your heart ...
Fritz the Cat: Please don't. Why should I even do this?
Mortuary Man: Sir, proper burial is the acknowledged appropriate measure of respect for our lost beloved. Anything less would be disrespectful to those of most supreme importance to us ... other than our Lord, of course.
Fritz the Cat: I didn't ask what you think of it but rather why anyone thinks it is a good idea to take dead people and plant them like petunia seeds.
Mortuary Man: Well, sir. We hardly treat them as petunia seeds. We make all the appropriate preparations for burial and then dress you up in something you would never wear with make-up which would make you want to die if you ever saw it.
Fritz the Cat: So you really don't know why humans bury people.
Mortuary Man: Well, sir, I wouldn't put it that way as our purpose and mission is to show the utmost respect to this most important human tradition.
Fritz the Cat: Right, you don't fookin' know. Is it in the Bible or something?
Mortuary Man: Not exactly, sir. You see ...
Fritz the Cat: We need exactly on this one. It's not a multiple-choice question. Also, what I still don't fookin' know is what it costs to bury my ass.
Mortuary Man: Ordinarily it's not considered professional to move on so quickly to such base matters as money but I see your time is highly important to you so please permit me, sir, to cut directly to the chase. It will cost $10,000 and that does include our premium Imperial Regent coffin.
Fritz the Cat: How professional does it fookin' need. You dig a hole and put dead people in it.
Mortuary Man: Oh, but, sir, there is an immediate importance to professionalism due to the nature of the preparations we must make.
Fritz the Cat: So you drain me of fluids and fill me up with antifreeze. They can do that at Jiffy Lube. Where's the professional part?
Mortuary Man: It's not so much the physical tasks we perform as it's also the respect and decorum we bring to them. We make every possible professional effort to keep your body in the most perfect possible state almost indefinitely.
Fritz the Cat: This is a non-returnable bottle. You cannot plant my dead ass in the ground and expect some process to fill me back up with Pepsi Cola so I can enjoy the Second Coming and rise up as my effervescent self.
(pause)
Fritz the Cat: Please refresh my memory. So, I'm dead. How much respect do I need?
(pause)
Fritz the Cat: Never mind. Pass on that. So how the hell does it cost $10,000 for Prince Albert in a Can?
Mortuary Man: Perhaps if you had more time we could review the eminent value of the Imperial Regent coffin as it is truly of the finest possible quality and is a perfectly wonderful choice for your place of repose for eternity.
Fritz the Cat: Dude, I'm talking about deadness and you're talking about packing Coppertone for the suntan.
Mortuary Man: Not at all, sir, but rather we consider the peace of our clients and that of their loved ones as they see you one last time.
Fritz the Cat: Sorry to interrupt again, Padre, but they don't see me one more time as I'm fookin' dead. As far as I know, this is not a visual experience.
Mortuary Man: It gives them closure, sir, and this is a benefit beyond money.
Fritz the Cat: Dude, it gives them fookin' nightmares. That's not closure, that's haunting.
Mortuary Man: I take it then, sir, your preference is for a closed coffin.
Fritz the Cat: My preference is that I don't die as then I could save the ten grand and we would not be having this stupid conversation.
Soooooooo ...
Mama, don't plant me in the garden when I'm gone.
Don't put me in the backyard shed and save me 'til the morn.
Don't put me in a fish tank and stand it on Red Square.
If my dead ass ain't breathin', don't put me anywhere.
Mama, don't plant me in the garden when I'm gone.
Just chuck me in the fire and let it burn 'til dawn.
Mama, don't plant me in the garden when I'm gone.
Every time you see petunias, you'll think Silas comes to haunt.
That song is authentic and was popular enough to make it into jukebox distribution. It was a regular play coming back from go-kart races on Sundays. Chet Atkins, Doc Watson "Don't Monkey Round My Widder"
Dealing with the deaders is one of the bar-none damn strangest things people do and few since the Egyptians have raised it to such an ostentatious extreme as modern Americans although the absurdity of British state funerals is probably impossible to top. We decided some field research was necessary so we sent one of our reporters to the You Stab 'em, We Slab 'em Funeral Services LLC (i.e. Limited-Liability Corporation).
For background music during this investigation, we selected the famous, "Mortuary Man," by the Eurythmics.
Mortuary Man: How can I be of service, most esteemed and noble, sir.
Fritz the Cat: I am preparing for my own deadness and wish to inquire as to the appropriate services, costs, etc for conversion of my remaining carcass into something else, somewhere else.
Mortuary Man: If I understand you correctly, good sir, your wish is to more fully understand the nature of your departure from this wretched mortal coil to the golden Paradise beyond.
Fritz the Cat: Please permit me to help you understand, demonic-looking guy. I wanna know how it goes to plant my dead ass, alright?
Mortuary Man: It's always so refreshing to work with a man of directness and certitude and most assuredly your needs can be met here at You Stab 'em, We Slab 'em.
Fritz the Cat: That was my general thinking in entering your esteemed establishment of deathness but my interest, more specifically, is when.
Mortuary Man. Indeed, a man of immediacy. I so much admire a man of action and purpose and I look forward to entertaining your business personally.
Fritz the Cat: I can't tell you how much that tickles me fookin' heart, doc.
Mortuary Man: Speaking of tickling your heart ...
Fritz the Cat: Please don't. Why should I even do this?
Mortuary Man: Sir, proper burial is the acknowledged appropriate measure of respect for our lost beloved. Anything less would be disrespectful to those of most supreme importance to us ... other than our Lord, of course.
Fritz the Cat: I didn't ask what you think of it but rather why anyone thinks it is a good idea to take dead people and plant them like petunia seeds.
Mortuary Man: Well, sir. We hardly treat them as petunia seeds. We make all the appropriate preparations for burial and then dress you up in something you would never wear with make-up which would make you want to die if you ever saw it.
Fritz the Cat: So you really don't know why humans bury people.
Mortuary Man: Well, sir, I wouldn't put it that way as our purpose and mission is to show the utmost respect to this most important human tradition.
Fritz the Cat: Right, you don't fookin' know. Is it in the Bible or something?
Mortuary Man: Not exactly, sir. You see ...
Fritz the Cat: We need exactly on this one. It's not a multiple-choice question. Also, what I still don't fookin' know is what it costs to bury my ass.
Mortuary Man: Ordinarily it's not considered professional to move on so quickly to such base matters as money but I see your time is highly important to you so please permit me, sir, to cut directly to the chase. It will cost $10,000 and that does include our premium Imperial Regent coffin.
Fritz the Cat: How professional does it fookin' need. You dig a hole and put dead people in it.
Mortuary Man: Oh, but, sir, there is an immediate importance to professionalism due to the nature of the preparations we must make.
Fritz the Cat: So you drain me of fluids and fill me up with antifreeze. They can do that at Jiffy Lube. Where's the professional part?
Mortuary Man: It's not so much the physical tasks we perform as it's also the respect and decorum we bring to them. We make every possible professional effort to keep your body in the most perfect possible state almost indefinitely.
Fritz the Cat: This is a non-returnable bottle. You cannot plant my dead ass in the ground and expect some process to fill me back up with Pepsi Cola so I can enjoy the Second Coming and rise up as my effervescent self.
(pause)
Fritz the Cat: Please refresh my memory. So, I'm dead. How much respect do I need?
(pause)
Fritz the Cat: Never mind. Pass on that. So how the hell does it cost $10,000 for Prince Albert in a Can?
Mortuary Man: Perhaps if you had more time we could review the eminent value of the Imperial Regent coffin as it is truly of the finest possible quality and is a perfectly wonderful choice for your place of repose for eternity.
Fritz the Cat: Dude, I'm talking about deadness and you're talking about packing Coppertone for the suntan.
Mortuary Man: Not at all, sir, but rather we consider the peace of our clients and that of their loved ones as they see you one last time.
Fritz the Cat: Sorry to interrupt again, Padre, but they don't see me one more time as I'm fookin' dead. As far as I know, this is not a visual experience.
Mortuary Man: It gives them closure, sir, and this is a benefit beyond money.
Fritz the Cat: Dude, it gives them fookin' nightmares. That's not closure, that's haunting.
Mortuary Man: I take it then, sir, your preference is for a closed coffin.
Fritz the Cat: My preference is that I don't die as then I could save the ten grand and we would not be having this stupid conversation.
Soooooooo ...
Mama, don't plant me in the garden when I'm gone.
Don't put me in the backyard shed and save me 'til the morn.
Don't put me in a fish tank and stand it on Red Square.
If my dead ass ain't breathin', don't put me anywhere.
Mama, don't plant me in the garden when I'm gone.
Just chuck me in the fire and let it burn 'til dawn.
Mama, don't plant me in the garden when I'm gone.
Every time you see petunias, you'll think Silas comes to haunt.
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