i recently rewatched the funeral of Hunter S. Thompson. i feel like HST saved my life. i really do. but his funeral has always kind of bugged me. it seems so narcisstic. all the fireworks. all that mad max bullshit. what was the fucking point of all that? does anyone really need a tribute so fucking insane? but now, i actually think that Hunter was doing something benevolent.
see, funerals aren’t for the dead. HST would not care one shit if instead of being cremated and exploded in a cannon that resembled his emblem, he was buried in some veteran’s cemetery and left to rot for 10000 years. he’s fucking dead. he doesn’t notice shit. that whole party and explosions and whatever during his funeral, that was for Johnny Depp and everyone that was there.
by creating a laundry list of things for his followers/fans/groupies/ex-wives/friends/co-workers/sluts/fanboys/editors to follow, HST let everyone feel better about themselves. they got a bit more closure, a bit more spectacle. the more elaborate, the better. it’s like a kind of weird scavenger hunt. and the mourners passed with flying colors. i wasn’t there and i didn’t create the ceremony, but i feel like if i were Hunter, i would be immensely pleased with the end result. and that’s the point. HST gave people something to create for themselves so that they wouldn’t cry as much when he selfishly ended his life.
if instead, HST had just said “bury me, you swine” then it would have been much harder to accept his fate. whether he knew it or not, whether it was just ego or compassion, HST made his death a lot easier to swallow.
i live life on the motherfucking edge. you know that. i could die at any moment (anyone could) but i might be at a greater risk than you, so i want to make my death a little easier on you too. i’m not suicidal and i like wallowing in depression too much to ever do something so stupid, so here’s my funeral instructions. they’re posted on my facebook somewhere, but i don’t think anyone ever noticed that. these instructions are a lot simpler than Mr. Thompson’s, but i’m not made of money and i don’t really care all that much. when i die, do these things and then feel happy. feel like you did something special to pay tribute to me. it wouldn’t matter if you ignored my instructions and instead lit bottle rockets off in an aquarium filled with rattlesnakes. who gives a shit. but this funeral service, i think, would be pretty fitting for the life i’ve led. here ya go:
IN THE EVENT OF MY DEATH
COUNSELORS
I haven’t yet appointed a counselor of my estate, so if you want to apply before I croak, send me an email. The manager of my estate shall be either my beautiful wife, Riayn Grey, or in the event that we die on the same day, my lovely sister, Bethany Farah. DO NOT put all three of us on the same airplane.
FUNERAL
1. Anyone who wishes to attend may attend, even folks who may have hated me during my life, including people who may have been directly or indirectly responsible for my death. All is forgiven here, and all are welcome. The one condition being that guests do not bother other guests.
2. At my funeral, play “Reminder” by Radiohead, “Sleep” by the Dandy Warhols and “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” by Cyndi Lauper. Lauper is vitally important. Other music is up to you. I have a playlist on my computer for this sort of thing, but you don’t have to use it since it’s two hours and that’s too long for a funeral. You can cry at the funeral, but that’s the last day you get to cry or I will haunt you. Dress up nice; please wear black. Formality exists for a reason.
3. Although not required, it is encouraged that mourners (or attendees, as the case may be) ingest some form of entheogen. Best if you peak or experience Ego Death during the service.
4. Don’t bring flowers PERIOD; instead, bring fungus. More symbolic that way, life growing from death and all that.
MATERIAL GOODS
1. Sell my earthly possessions, use for funeral. Keep what you want, starting with family and then close friends. Notebooks, film, etc. shall be used in my estate and I’d kind of appreciate it if someone took care of it instead of tossing it in a dumpster, like I expect.
2. If desired, the counselors of my estate may organize my published work into some sort of manuscript or series of flash cards for publication and (presumably) profit. If not desired, or if it is accurately assumed that no profit would be made anyway, release my organization of words into the Public Domain.
3. Release all visual media (videos, photographs, paintings, etc.) that I currently own copyright on into the public domain. Release my organs into the public domain as well, if applicable. Do not resuscitate in cases of extended coma, vegetative states or if my dick falls off.
Cremate the rest of me.
Spread my ashes on North Mountain.