ATTENTION, LEHIGH VALLEY IRON PIGS FANS:

The Phillies Triple-A affiliate is offering up a free funeral this summer to one “lucky” fan who submits an essay about what their “dream funeral” would include.

(Thanks to Andrew Hoenig)

Comments

[Theresa]

Oh boy, I'll have to get on that free dream funeral essay right away. Who would come? My son would show up. Too funny.

[Layzeeboy]

‘out-of-the-box’ promotion

Quite the opposite, I'd say.

[ligirl]

they could at least throw in a free box seat

[LeDud]

People are just dying to do this promotion. Heh...get it ? Its a joke......

[poker]

A free funeral 'this summer'?
Let's hope I don't need one this summer.
That would be a bummer

[Bill Hudgins]

Wow, my own dugout...

[Alien8]

My perfect funeral would involve me walking in halfway and going "Guys, that's not me in the coffin."

[Captain Spoilsport]

Can you nominate people for the funeral? Because I've got a little list of society offenders who might well be underground, and never would be missed.

[Just Some Guy]

Maybe you can have your beloved pet or a roast-chicken carcass in the coffin. That would make it less grisly. Or! Have a Ribs 'n' Wings Extravaganza, where everyone throws the bones in the coffin! I'm going on the phone right now to the PigPots or whoever they are.

[Ralph]

It's Minor League Baseball; that's a dead giveaway.

[PirateBoy the Dead Chef]

I'm dying for a chance to enter this.

And J. Some Guy? Wouldn't the chicken bones be "less gristley"?

[ligirl]

Pirateboy - they'd be fowl

[MazarLarry]

Phillies phans-- a rare breed indeed

[PirateBoy the Music Fan]

Baseball and chickens go well together, ligirl.

Most fans wait for the chance to catch a fowl ball.

Unless they are chicken.

Or unless they are/were the chicken.

[Horace LaBadie]

If you can tear yourself away from the urinal video games, a funeral is the way to go.

[Omniskeptic]

When I die, I want my ashes scattered over Ted Nugent. While he's performing.

[Not My Usual Alias]

My mentor's funeral was at the Cathedral of St. Matthew the Apostle in DC -- it was her neighborhood parish. It was a beautiful mass in a stunning building. Even the July heat and humidity was stopped by the cool of the stone.

The meal after for closest friends and family was at a local restaurant. As her protege, I had been assigned a task. I was told to keep an eye out for others.

"I heard it was supposed to snow" was my assigned line, planted to see who would flee to stock up on milk and toilet paper. As a former resident of Moscow, Rosalie detested the wimpiness showed in our nation's capital almost as much as she detested Dan Quayle. Sure enough, a couple of people took the bait and were knocked backwards by the heat at the door outside of the air conditioning.

A few of us raised our glasses, catching each other's eyes. The others pulled their pranks, each followed by a glass raised.

Me? I want to have a cell phone in the urn set to play bagpipe music as the ring tone. Someone should probably extract the phone before scattering my ashes over a large outdoor food event.

[Loudmouth]

Does a Viking pyre in a long boat count?

[Hanna]

That's what kids are for.