I automatically get this uneasy feeling and then I get pissed at the ghettofication. I don't understand it. I mean, I know we was born and raised in the hoodest of the hoods in our own little sections but dammit, why we gotta ACT like it, ESPECIALLY at such an occasion as a funeral? There's a time and a place for ghettofication and a funeral ain't one of them. Sometimes, the funeral services that I've HEARD about just take that big giant step over the line of being Ghetto to just being PURE fucktation. sometimes, they're in the middle of and they're just WEIRD. Just like the Puerto Rican dude who requested to be kept upright at his wake a year ago. THAT shit, while I'm sure it's not that rare that it happens, would just give me the heebie Jeebies. And it was in his Mother's home, too? Can you imagine one of those late nights when you go into the kitchen for a late night snack and you see a corpse in the corner chillin' like "What's up, My Nigga?!". I'd be NO more good. I'd probably get used to it but I won't ever know because it won't happen in MY house.
Now, the Fucktation that I bring to you in this video below is beyond anything that I've seen in my life. Now, I'm sure somebody has DONE this before but I've never heard of it happening, unless it was a murder victim in those old Gangsta movies. Observe.
Now, I'm ASSUMING that it was requested by this man to be buried in his car as his last wish and I'm all for respecting the requests of the dead...but can somebody tell me since WHEN do you need to have a car to go to Heaven or Hell? I thought the Death Angel already had some transportation prepared for you when you take your last breath. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe I'm right. Either way, I hope that car has PLENTY of mileage on it because it's a long ways. I've already spoken about to my Mother numerous times about her final request and all that and I'm gonna do my DAMNDEST to make sure all her requests are brought to light. She's already made it clear on paper that I shall be handling everything because her Husband would be an absolute mess. I'd have to kill him...but if it's too much damn money, she's gonna cremated..WIZZY Style. Gasoline and some matches out in the back of my house. Hell, I have the final say, right? She's DEAD. What does she know? I mean, I haven't really laid out plans for My transition yet. I don't really HAVE em'. I just ask that whoever is doing it send me off with a PARTY. No all that sad shit. I also hope whoever does it that it's done TASTEFULLY. Don't be burryin' me naked in cowboy boats and in no damn coffin that looks like a condom and shit like that. You know how creative muthafucka's can get. But hey, it's the Ghettoness in em'. Gotta love em'.