The World According to Robert  

MY FUNERAL I CAN’T WAIT  

I really can’t get over that as a society we still have these things called wakes. 

My father had one and everyone would say he looked so peaceful. 

How was he supposed to look. Annoyed? That would be novel. 

So what do a mic and a casket have in common? 

Robert’s Dead  

 OK so I had to go to two funerals this week. Had is a bad word. I wanted to 

go. Two of my best friends lost loved ones. A friends Mom passed away and so 

did another friends Dad. I really love both these men, purely plutonic love not 

prison love, and hate to see them go thru this stuff. But we all have gone thru it or 

will at some time go thru it. Now it struck me how when you die you really kind of 

figure out how well your liked and respected in the world you walked when you 

were alive. 

    The more people who come to see you off, I guess the better liked you are. 

The key is to see how many people spit on your coffin. If the guy at the funeral 

parlor has to come out every fifteen minutes to wipe stuff up thereʼs a good 

chance you werenʼt on everyones Facebook. 

    Both funerals had masses in churches. Iʼm thinking, I personally need 

something different. My Dad had the typical Italian funeral. Two days in a funeral 

home so you can look at a body that has been pumped up with some sort of 

spray foam insulation. 

    How about celebrity funerals. The dead person could be dressed as the joker 

and the whole place decked out in Batman stuff. Or celebrity masks for the dearly 

deceased. 

   I hated seeing my Dad with that frozen look on his face. I also love how they 

sometimes put little smiles on the faces of your loved one. My uncle never smiled 

and it was horrible seeing that frozen face of glee. I want a Sadomasochism ball 

gag in my mouth. Something interesting. How about duct tape so it looks like Iʼve 

been kidnapped? Iʼve been to funerals where the person in the casket looks like 

Betty Davis in What Ever Happened to Baby Jane. The person was a guy. How 

could they let them do that. Put a friggin ing bag over my head and bury me upside 

down with my ass sticking out so my gay friends can grab a cold one on the way 

home. Sorry couldnʼt help myself. I heard that joke years ago and thought it was 

funny. But thatʼs me. 

    I had briefly played with the idea of a Robert Pinata. You could throw a noose 

over a tree and hang me by the neck. Then I remembered having a pinata for my 

daughter and she filled it with ketchup and mustard. I think thatʼs what it would 

look like. Not to pretty. 

   So my second thought was having a stick of dynamite stuck up my ass and 

being blown up somewhere where the birds and animals could all have a sample. 

    I can see it now. “Look what I brought home for dinner honey. Wow my 

favorite. Old Sicilian.” 

    If I canʼt be blown up, I understand there could be legal issues, I want to be 

laid out in either a comedy club or a bar. I have it all figured out. I mean 80 

people came to see me play at a gig so I think I could pack a place if I die. Thatʼs 

usually the prerequisite to booking a gig. Can you pack the place? Robʼs 

Farewell Gig.     

    Iʼll get all the people who love me to come, which are many, and the people 

who donʼt. See who spits? Iʼll also get the people who think Iʼm playing some joke 

so theyʼll come and poke the body to see if Iʼm really dead. Weʼll have little sticks 

that they can use. Maybe youʼll have to buy tickets and get stamped at the door. 

There will be back casket passes for the VIPʼs. Iʼll also have a band setup and 

open mic. People could tell jokes and sing if they want. 

    There will also some sort of hard disk recorder. It will hold tons of recordings of 

me. There will be 50 buttons and each button will have a name. You find your 

name, hit the button and I say something to you. It will be my personal farewell 

greeting to friends and enemies alike. Are you brave enough?  

    And then for a small fee you can sign up for one year of emails from me after I 

die. Theyʼll come at all random times. Itʼll be like Iʼm not really gone. 

Lucky you.