DEATH

By Leah Weathersby

I’m not usually much of churchgoer, but the New Year almost always delivers the unexpected, and thus I recently found myself attending a Catholic funeral service.

The first thing unbelievers such as myself realize upon attending a church service, with the hymns, the kneeling, the chanting, is that the only difference between the Catholics and your run-of-the-mill cult is real-estate ownership on a large scale.

Cults

For this reason, marriage there are only two things that will get non-believers into a church, a wedding or a funeral.Most of us would rather attend the former than the latter, but the fact is that while only a lucky few will find true love, every single one of us will eventually have our chance to pass on to the “afterlife” of “organ-donorship.”

Christians know there will be lost souls such
funeral, and they love to remind us that we’ll be
pull ourselves together and fly straight.

The Faithful

as myself in the audience at a
going directly to hell unless we

Their problem is not only the dearth of scientific evidence, but that the only real inducement heaven seems to offer is to be closer to Jesus. I say, “What has Jesus done for me lately? Landed me in a stuffy church with a dead body and bunch of geezers laying a guilt trip on me for my trouble, that’s what.” Then I giggle as quietly as possible to myself and think, “when I go, I won’t give any of them my used liver.”

Not that there will be much left of it anyway.

Let’s face it: a girl needs solace in a meaningless, godless hellhole like this one. Especially at this time of year, in the dead of winter. Leaves fall from the trees to rot, there's a biting chill in the air at night, reminding us that homelessness isn’t all fun and games. Our sunlight allotment is cut to about two second every three days, and a parade of family-oriented holidays comes around, invariably driving up the suicide rate. Yes, at times like these, my thoughts inevitably revolve around Death.

I don’t like to think about my own mortality, but winter and funerals make it inevitable.

Take for instance a depression that could be easily handled in the summer time with a candy bar and the occasional bottle of Zima: that same depression will withstand the effects of a $500 UV light lamp, 3 bags of stale Halloween candy, and half a box of stolen communion wine before I even see a dent!

The worst thing about most of these funerals is that they don’t make the presentation reflective of the person who died. The priest uses it as an opportunity to scare the rest of us into submission.

I don't expect to be the cause of a lot
burdening others with my own insecurities
I’m going to ask that the speakers skip the
meditating out loud on the horror of non-

of praise when I go, but I do enjoy
and neurosis. That’s why when I die,
prayers and spend the entire hour
existence.

In the meantime, if any one wants to show a little Christian charity, how about a couple bucks towards my UV lamp?