Mortified in the Mortuary

Recently our friend’s grandfather died. He asked us to go with him to the (insert your colloquial phrase here) wake/settin’ up/ receiving friends. Here this usually happens in the home but this time it was at a funeral home/mortuary. We have covered funerals and death before over at the family blog. If you want to read those post they are here, here, and here.

This time however, I am thinking more about the similarities. One in particular. These days no matter what sanctimonious event is taking place, some chump, selfish enough to think he needs his phone at all times, forgets to silence his digital communicator.  Of course you know what happens. Wilhemina Wal-Mart, Phone Guy’s girlfriend, runs out of Funions and Cheerwine and needs him to pick some up A.S.A.P.  Wilhemina’s delicate constitution cannot go long without the lab-created, onion-flavored dust and a liberal dose of Red Lake #40.

Back to my friend’s invitation to the funeral home. It’s not important that we are in South America, it turns out that Phone Guy is an international icon. At a very solemn moment in the recitation of prayers (Catholic family), Phone Guy’s cellular rings. It rings loud. I mean hearing-impaired device loud. As if that was not enough sacrilege he had selected a song’s chorus for his ring tone. “What song is blaring like a disco tech from the tiny, but powerful, Chinese-made cellular sound machine?” you ask. The very popular Christian tune “Si fuera mi ultimo dia by Tercer Cielo. For my non-Spanish-speaking readers that means “If it were my last day.”

Have you ever been Phone Guy? I have.

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