Mooses Make Me Laugh

The mooses (why the hell don’t we say ‘Meese’ by the way, we say geese?!!) prove that drunkeness really is not something that humans have a lock on. Of course, I’m sure the retirement people were scared out of their minds and we’ren’t ready to argue that point with the beasts.
Speaking of the retired, the other day, I went out to Holy Cross Cemetery in Colma (yup, where the dead outnumber the living by some massive number.) I was looking for the graves of my great-grandfather and grand-uncle. I found both of them and they did little to shed any light on family history as it seems to be the case with my enigmatic Croatian family. But the thing that really freaked me out where the retirement homes right across from the cemetery. That just sucks. It’s one thing to know that you’re going to die someday, but another one altogether to see your eternal resting place waiting for you each morning with an open maw. Yeah, that’s right, I just used the word “maw”. Sometimes you gotta put your English Lit degree to work, ya hear!
If I don’t die the way I want to (in a spontaneously combusting ball of flames while playing cyber bongo on the flood plane of Mars), I hope that if I do raise jerkwad kids who stick me in a home that it’s nowhere near a hole in the ground. For one, as I said before, that sucks. And two, I want cremation dammit! Don’t waste space on my deadness please.