Anti-Press Express

Getting hit by an oversized pickup truck while using a sidewalk is a great learning experience. You’ll soon learn how many real friends you have.

Keep in mind that I have done favors for friends in the past, from listening to their problems to giving them a ride somewhere when I owned a car.

After surviving the torture chamber masquerading as an emergency room at the hospital, I’m kinda limited in what I can do. The day after the accident I left a couple of messages on a friend’s machine. I just said I needed a favor.

That evening I was able to get the friend on the phone, around 7:30 PM. I asked her if she could give me a quick lift somewhere if she wasn’t busy. It would only take half-an-hour, if that, including travel and waiting time. She said she couldn’t help me: she was preoccupied with ironing her clothes for work tomorrow.

Today I spoke with someone at a downtown café who also doesn’t get around town by car; he walks everywhere. I wanted to let him know about my accident, in part because he passes through the same area where I was hit and thrown. He immediately launched into the latest news about himself, apparently not noticing my stiffness and discomfort. He went on about stuff I had already heard about five times before, his latest published work, what it was, where it was published, how many words it was, etc., etc., to the nth degree.

I got up from the table, telling him I had to leave because my back was tightening up from sitting too long. (One of the pleasurable aftereffects from being almost crushed under a truck.) I briefly mentioned to him my accident. He acted as if I was leaving because I had a slight cold. I suspect he was upset that I didn’t let him finish repeating his same routine ad nauseam.

Apparently telling “friends” that you have survived a potentially crippling/fatal accident involving a truck driving straight into you doesn’t mean anything nowadays. It’s just part of society’s changing mores.

So how many “friends” do you have?

For those who follow Anti-Press through the ezine version, APE, be advised that the mailing list is ending. Morbus at www.disobey.com is moving on to a new server and won't be keeping his mailing list service. I'm not set up to run one myself. He has offered to archive the plain text editions at his new server.

So this blog will be the main outlet for the latest writings of positive negativity.

I want to thank Morbus for managing the mailing list all these years and promoting Anti-Press to the world at large. When Anti-Press came to a quick dead end as a local print zine, Morbus offered to publish me on the Web. Thus began the Anti-Press Ezine -- APE. Morbus's help kept Anti-Press going all these years. Thanks, Morbus.

Why are funeral homes like supermarkets? Besides the packaging of dead meat, they both want to sell you certain products that you don’t necessarily need.

To see what I mean, read “The American Way of Death” by Jessica Mitford, either the book or the original article that inspired it. The article is included in the recent anthology of investigation journalism called “Tell Me No Lies,” edited by John Pilger.

Even though her skeptical look at the funeral industry dates back to the 1960s, some of her observations are still valid today. She did document certain egregious transgressions by the funeral business at that time and reforms were made. But her questioning attitude towards some expenses can still be applied.

Of course, funeral homes aren’t non-profit entities. They’re entitled to make a decent living. Also, I would never tell others how to spend their own money. But I reserve the right, like Mitford, to think that certain purchases are extravagant, beside the point.

I wonder how Mitford would react to a article covering the local dead meat beat in a recent Sunday edition of the Plattsburgh (news)paper, the Daily Snafu. The article explained how “new” innovations (aren’t innovations by nature “new?”) in the funeral industry offer more options for consumers – to spend more money, of course.

I think Mitford would be greatly amused how modern technology has reached its apex with personalized DVD tributes featuring photographs of the loved one with family and friends. Now you don’t have to touch those dirty prints; just pop the tribute DVD into a TV set during the wake. A tribute producer explained that his service provided more than a slide show: he pans and zooms for an interactive feel. Hey, I can do the same thing with a print in my hand, moving it sideways or back and forth in front of my face, for a lot cheaper.

And let’s not forget the packaging of the dead meat. Coffins – I’m sorry, I should use the euphemism, “caskets,” – can be outfitted with gaudy options that just end up rotting in the ground. As the Daily Snafu article states: “The sky’s the limit when it comes to choosing – and paying – for a casket.”

How about a bronze casket with 14-karat gold hardware? Yours for about $30,000. (Just don’t let any grave robbers know where the final resting place shall be.) How about some fancy lid panels? Such a panel could show the stiff – sorry, the “dearly departed” – pursuing one of his favorite activities when he was animated: golfing, boating, or fornicating. Was the departed an avid outdoorsman? Well, you can get a casket in camouflage colors for only $2700. Nothing says decorum than a coffin adorned with splotches of earthy green and brown.

But who would buy this stuff? Let’s face it, a fancy coffin is about as practical as a third tit on Dolly Parton. As Mitford has pointed out, it’s normal for a person who has lost a close relative or friend to be in shock. There might also be feelings of guilt, that they blame themselves for not treating the person better when he was alive.

How better to relieve that guilt than to spend extra for the cammo exterior with the 14-karat gold handles?