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I've never understood our post mortem needs. I've been to funerals, and in all honesty I would never want one. Why would you want people to stand around talking about you in past tense? Saying whatever they want because you aren't there? Trying to be nice, spouting euphemisms and bullshit in copious amounts.
If I'm dead, what does it matter to me what happens to my body, or whether anyone remembers me? It's not like I'll be able to enjoy it. Whether you string my naked body up in town square for everyone to see, or bury it in an elaborate funeral, I'm dead - I don't know what happened, I don't care, and it can't possibly affect me. Being remembered is similar.
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Sure I have a heart; it's floating in a jar in my closet, along with my tonsils, my appendix, and all of the other useless organs I ripped out.
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