For the past 24 hours or so, I’ve been enjoying a beautiful daydream in which I’m a clairvoyant casket salesman pushing a new product on a soon-to-be deceased Ted Nugent.
The daydream was inspired by an OutdoorHub.com story titled “More Hunters Opting for Hunting-themed ‘Camo Caskets,’” which explains that “one of the designs on the market is a hunting-themed, camouflage-lined casket.”
One company that’s producing burial boxes for the drooling class is an outfit called ’Til We Meet Again, whose name is as ridiculous as some of the products it sells. In a video advertisement for a “hunter casket,” a voice-over encourages potential future customers to “be remembered as you lived.”
Naturally, I think all hunters should be remembered as the worthless, bloodlust-full psychopaths that they are. Their ugly carcasses should be left to be snacked on by scavengers, burned with other types of trash, or stuffed and mounted in the Dead Hunters Museum Theater.
But I digress.
In the above-mentioned ’Til We Meet Again video advertisement, a shotgun-wielding knuckle-dragger standing in front of a “hunter casket” and identified on screen as “Steve” says, “I’m a hunter, and when it’s my time, this is how I want to go.”
Believe me, Steve, I can’t wait till it’s your time. In fact, I sincerely hope that demand for these burial boxes greatly outpaces supply.
I should be honest here and admit that in addition to inspiring my most enjoyable daydream, the OutdoorHub.com story has given me an idea for a business venture that would involve designing caskets for hunting-accident- and animal-attack aficionados like myself. The caskets I would market and sell through The Daily Maul, as part of a product line called the “Eternal Schadenfreude” series, would be wrapped in and lined on the inside with photographs of hunters who were fatally mauled by their would-be murder victims or who died as the result of shooting themselves or being gunned down by one of their fellow savages. The casket wraps and linings would reflect the design of the wallpaper with which I hope to soon decorate my office.
(Note to self: Get into the specialty wallpaper business.)
But let’s get back to my beautiful daydream, which finds me on the phone with Mr. Nugent, letting him know that he’ll soon suffer a glorious death after accidentally blowing one of his own legs off and then being disemboweled by angry and opportunistic hogs.
“What’s it going to take for me to get you into one of these?” I ask him, gleefully.