Daily Skiff

Buried in a casket bearing the logo of the New York Yankees? No, it's not the fate of Babe Ruth or Lou Gehrig. It could be your Uncle Sal if he's willing to pony up the dough.

According to a Dec. 15 article in The New York Times by Francis X. Clines, the Branch Funeral Home in Smithtown, N.Y. has begun selling caskets with either the Mets' or Yankees' logo emblazoned on the open cover and pillow.

The cost? A mere $5,000. Style points? 37 billion.

Who says death needs to be solemn and dignified anyway? No one's going to remember you for that.

As some dead guy once said, "My biggest fear is that no one will remember me after I die."

Flair is a must.

Anyone can be buried in a boring, old mahogany casket that lacks any sort of flair. It's the 21st century people; it's time to make death an event.

Do you remember anyone who died in 17th century Europe? No, of course not. That's because they were buried in garden-variety caskets marked by modest crosses. No family crests on the coffins and no dirty limericks or clever sayings on the headstones. It's no wonder that 99.99999 percent of the population is lost to history.

The only man who got it right was William Shakespeare, whose gravesite in the Holy Trinity Church in Stratford-upon-Avon reads, "Blest be the man that spares these stones, And curst be he that moves my bones."

Now the Egyptians, on the other hand, knew how to die. Pyramids, hieroglyphics and (presumably) zombie snake armies ready to devour any man foolish enough to enter the tomb? That is what I call going out in style.

Why stop at baseball logos though? The realm of graves and caskets is fertile ground for fun, fresh thinking.

Are you afraid that no one is going to visit your gravesite when you die? Request to be buried inside a pinball machine, then use the money it earns to help pay for your grandkids' college expenses. Everybody loves pinball, so it'll only be a matter of time before Timmy and Mary are going to Cornell free of charge.

Like competition? Make your final resting place an alligator-infested swap, leaving your life's savings dangling perilously close to the water. Next, invite a bunch of ex-convicts to have a no-holds-barred race to see who can get to it first. Winner gets to keep the money. If Pickles knocks his cellmate D-Money into the mouth of a hungry gator during the competition, well that's just a plus. There's surely a place in history for the first person who actually goes through with that.

Big fan of geography? Get sliced up in seven pieces and become the first person to be buried on all seven continents. You know that would be on CNN.

Too long have we been forced by societal norms to accept the after-death process as an act of sadness and reservation. Post-life should be as fun as the lives that the deceased were living. Why be pigeonholed into one way of thinking?

It's time to go out with a bang.

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