Disney: The Happiest Place On Earth

It was reported in the New York Post recently that park visitors are scattering the ashes of their deceased loved ones throughout Disneyland and Disney World. It has been an ongoing issue in the Park for some time and park custodians have been forced to use a special attachment on the vacuum cleaners in order to suck up the ashes after they have been left at the park. These visitors are smuggling the ashes into the park concealed in camera cases and backpacks in order to evade detection. Disney considers this to be a park, health code violation and is asking for the public to stop doing this. Apparently, the Pirates of the Caribbean ride, the Haunted Mansion along with the Dumbo the Elephant ride are the most popular places in the park chosen as the final resting place for deceased relatives. Experts believe that this is a way in which relatives can visit the “happiest place on earth,” one last time with their departed family member.

While I never really contemplated my own demise before, this article made me stop and think. This subject is not something a typical 30-year-old would worry about, but the more I thought about this, the more I realized I have some things to work through. For instance, after they toss you into the pizza oven and bake you to a crisp, they really don’t know what pieces are where- they just have a clump of ashes with no identifiable body parts (although, several Disneyland visitors have described finding human fingers and eyeballs in the bushes surrounded by ashes- obviously, these are either deceased remains or someone spilled their Chinese food in the bushes). The article also made me realize that I now have to worry that my severely overweight, chain smoking alcoholic uncle is going to head to Disneyland one last time and make me watch him treat himself to a couple of Astro Wieners with pickles at the Space Mountain Galactic Restaurant before he dumps my fried testicles at the feet of some animatronic swashbuckler. I’m going through life fat, dumb, and happy then suddenly I keel over from a tainted piece of romaine lettuce and my crazy Uncle Eddie (who has a giant hump on his back and looks like he should be ringing a bell somewhere) is going to toss my overcooked anus under some big eared, porcine flying pachyderm? Thanks a lot New York Post!

I am also quite sure Walt Disney would have never approved of this type of behavior. Although, come to think of it, Walt did think it would be a great idea to be cryogenically frozen and then have his head placed on a monkey body and thawed out sometime in the future (what a nut job). They should take that human popsicle and dump his ice-cold carcass in the bushes near Splash Mountain just to discourage these lunatics from doing this shit. Once he thaws out and begins to turn, the odor will send a strong message. Or, better yet, they could dump his Haagen Dazs head somewhere on Tom Sawyer’s Island in order to get people to actually go over there. That would be a win/win! Injun Joe and Muff Potter could violate that ice bucket and leave poor Dr. Robinson alone for a change.

Prior to reading this article my only concern with heading to my final reward was that the crew of meat puppets I left behind would at least have the common decency to put me in some underwear and a suit before the dirt nap, and now this. After reading this article I began watching my relatives closely. I am trying to figure out which one of these mouth breathing, fetal alcohol syndrome, carnival workers will be the one to dump me into an ashtray, put on some mouse ears and then scatter me around Mister Toad’s Wild ride because the line to the Haunted Mansion was too long. At the moment I think it might be my sister Jackie. She never liked me, got pregnant at 16 and then married her Driver’s Ed teacher who was 36 years older than her because he had a car. Ironically his name was Ed.

I have had to sit down and formulate a plan in case one of them dies before I do. My current plan, if Jackie goes first, is to cremate her (she’s deathly afraid of fire and is saving her money in order to purchase a cemetery plot near the high school parking lot where she first consummated her relationship with Ed), and then scatter her ashes around that goddamn Small World ride. Let her listen to that “small world” song for eternity – that will settle a few scores! She better hope her ears aren’t in that ashtray! As for the others, most of whom are severely obese and are trying to deal with a few too many chromosomes, I’m just hoping they cremate them so I don’t have to be one of the pall bearers. I have to assume that attempting to lift any of those corpulent bastards will result in my testicle flying out of my abdominal cavity and a seven day stay in a hospital post hernia surgery. As for scattering their ashes at Disneyland, I suppose just dumping their ashes near the tram stop garbage can at the front entrance would be sufficient. There is no way you are packing that many ashes into a camera case. The pile of ashes for each one of them would most likely resemble the smoldering ashes of a bad house fire but would smell much worse. Oh well, screw the New York Post and screw Disneyland!