POSITIVE SARCASM PRESENTS: CHICKEN WINGS AT A FUNERAL.

 

Okay, so we've established that at the time of your birth, chances are you were screaming and crying. So is the idea of people crying at the sight of your stiff ass in a wooden box some sort of revenge tactic for the tears you shed at birth? You knew it from your inception, “Great, now I have to please you assholes for the next 70-80 years. You guys are gonna get it when I die!”

At your funeral, the plain parade of black dress pants and that one dickhead who showed up in jeans make their way like a soup kitchen line to your casket, some of them pondering how they're even related to you, but decided to show up anyway because it was your obligation to stop by in order to make Aunt Sophie happy after all the work she put into the food at the wake.

Now I understand that a potluck setup wouldn't exactly be the smartest idea considering that your cousin Sarah is too depressed to whip up her stuffed peppers that you loved so much when your unemployment went dry. Who gives a shit, your dead! Is she going to wrap one up and toss it in your casket for your trip to Hell? You ever been through Custom's there? There's no way your getting a home cooked meal by those Security Guards. They're like the TSA, but intelligent.

Why is there food at a funeral anyway? What bloated relative can possibly be that hungry with a dead body in the other room. Alcohol makes sense, cus why not, right? It's supposed to be a sad day, so let's get bombed and sob at the podium incoherently....but deviled eggs? Okay so your sister's brother-in-law, Frank not only can stretch his lapband to its interstellar limits with the free buffet, but now he's pushed everyone out the door faster as he sulfur bombs the entire funeral parlor with his Nuclear farts. Great family, it's a shame you left them so suddenly.

No wonder this country has an obesity problem, there aren't any occasions left where we aren't leaving without sticky lips and fingers. BYOB...Bring Your Own Buffet.

Ohhhh...I think I just realized halfway through writing this why food is there to begin with. It is to soak up all that booze, so that your ex-girlfriend whose was close with your mother doesn't get blasted on an empty stomach and begins to shoot her mouth off about your sub-par sex life and that you were caught wearing her underwear on accident....three times.

So now that I've officially changed my mind and now support food at funerals, I still think it would be smart to have some rules or least guidelines to what can be served just days after your untimely departure from this world.

First off, no soup. Hands are shaking, tensions are high, people have their heads down and aren't really paying attention to where they are going, so I don't think a scalding hot bowl of minestrone is a wise idea for those teetering on the edge of breaking down. Another smart avoidance would be heavy garlic or onion like assortments, your brother Tommy doesn't need to be burping up a storm during the eulogy that he's gonna suck at anyways, why make it worse for the crowd in attendance? Anything that requires twirling your fork. Your in a black suit or black dress, twirling up a plate of soupy Fettuccine Alfredo is a cliffhanger move every time you bring that utensil near your mouth. Meatballs are a good idea when portioned correctly, if you can grab it whole with just your front teeth via toothpick, your golden, but if you can split finger it like a 2-2 fastball to Jeter, then you best dial it down to a size that isn't going to clear any dugouts. Go easy on the sauce too there, Gordon Ramsey.

Finally, if you think rolling into such a somber environment with any foods spicier than Cinemax after 2AM, think again. Breaded Chicken Strips, yes. Level 5 Hot Wings that would melt through the clearcoat on your Chevy Corsica, no bueno caliente. Leave that tongue numbing garbage in your pantry where it belongs.

 

“Our father, who art in heaven,

hallowed be thy name.

Thy kingdom come,

thy will be done,

especially by the chicken wings,

for they were hot as fuck.

...AMEN.