Well, most stock photos.  Many stock photos get very close to what they are attempting to represent.  Take, for instance the photo below:

The iStockphoto caption for this photo is “mourning woman.”

The caption aptly describes the above photo.

But then iStockphoto gives us this beauty with this caption:

A woman mourning over the death of a man at a funeral home.

What?  A woman mourning?

Is that a mourning face? Did the photographer ask the model, “Give me your ‘its-so-sad-all-I-can-do-is-smile’ face!”  Maybe the model is a psychopathic sadist who associates death and dying with pleasure?

If that’s a mourning face, I’d love to see her happy face.

Maybe … she … is … a …. necrophiliac?

Maybe the photographer said, “Give me your necrophiliac face.”

And she heard, “Give my your silly act face.”

Maybe she just likes touching dead people?

Any way you slice it, this is perhaps the biggest stock photo fail EVER.

And it needs you to provide it with a caption … because the one it currently has just doesn’t work.

What is this event?  Is it a hearse show?  Who would show up to such a car show?  Besides the joker, maybe some emos, a couple goths and … I honestly haven’t a clue as to who’d want to be here.   None of these guys, gals and kids look like funeral directors.

Maybe they are wannabe funeral directors?  I can’t imagine that such a segment of the population exists.  It’s not like we’re athletes or celebrities.  We bury the dead … nothing glamours at all.  And, it’s not hard to BE a funeral director … three to four years of school. Those guys are truly a sorry bunch if they’re wannabes.

Maybe it’s a horse show and some rednecks misheard “horse” as “hearse”?

“Hey’a Billy.  Ya bringin that ol harse of yours to da show?”

“Harse?  Why da hell dey havin a harse show?”

“Dy shoin off dy harses and whoever has da best one gets a grand.”

“That’s like a year supply of beer.”

“Yup.  You’d better wax that der harse up nice and clean dat deer carcus out da back.”

And doesn’t it creep you out that there’s a kid just chillin in the back of a hearse?  If you notice, there’s three kids in the background of this photo.  The two boys seems to be jealously looking at the girl with the balloon … almost like they’ve never seen one before … maybe their parents only give them dead, popped balloons?  Or maybe they’ve never seen the color pink before?

I don’t know and I don’t think I want to know.

Nicki gave Jeremiah to my grandfather and I gave my cell phone camera to Nicki so that she could capture four generations of Wildes.

As you know, our business is a family business that’s spanned six generations.  Jeremiah — if he chooses — would become the seventh generation.

My grandfather is speaking some words to Jeremiah.  Let’s imagine that those words are intended to manipulate Jeremiah at a young age to become a funeral director.  What could he possibly be saying?

Here’s a couple of my attempts:

“If you become a funeral director, I’ll buy you a diamond studded pacifier.”

“The morgue is beckoning.  Answer the call.”

“You like the Mercedes I drive?  I’ll see if they can’t make one for an infant.”

“I’ll buy you all the toys you want, if you’ll scribble on this contract that obligates you to fulfill your generational duty.”

“Dead people are much less scary than your father.”

“There’s nothing like hide-and-go seek in a casket room.”

“Your last name is synonymous with ‘funeral director.  You have no choice.’”

“I will buy you a breast that produces ice cream.”

Your turn … CAPTION THIS.

First off, I’m assuming there’s no body in that wicker coffin.

And the reason I’m assuming that there’s no body in the coffin is because funeral directors MUST NEVER smile when driving a hearse … or a hearse-bike for that matter.  It’s a part of our religion and very much frowned upon.  Seriously.  It’s the commandment that comes after FUNERAL DIRECTORS MUST ALWAYS WEAR BLACK (a commandment that he’s still adhering to … thankfully).

If there’s a body in the wicker casket, I’m finding this smiley, Joel Osteen heretic guy and physically kicking him out of the Fraternal Order of Undertakers.

AND, who in the world would want a hearse-bike to carry their casket?  This is America.  This is the place of massive cars.  Of expensive machines.  Of Cadillacs.  Of Lincolns.  A bike?  Really?  What is this … France? I bet he’s so liberal he votes for Ralph Nader.

And, is the lady dressed in green in the background of the photo a pot pixie?  “Created by God.  Condemned and abused my man.” There’s a lot of eco-theology packed into that little statement.  But that doesn’t concern me.  No, I’m still upset about the smiling undertaker.

What concerns me is the small little number at the rear wheel of the hearse-bike thingy.  Can you find it?

Is that number representative of his racing number?  Is this a race?  Is that creepy, soon to be ex-funeral director guy in a suit racing the hearse-bike?  Wrong.  So.  Wrong.

And finally, what are those two kids doing sitting on the sidewalk in their pajamas?

This picture produces more questions than answers, which is why it needs your caption.

I really hope this picture is from an outtake to a movie because if this is real, I’ve lost my faith in humanity.

Furthermore, if this is real I’ve lost faith in the goodness of the Creator. How could he create people so stupid?  Maybe God enjoys watching our stupidity.  Maybe it’s a never ending source of humor for the heavens. A running divine sitcom.

But this.  THIS.

I don’t even know where to start?  Did the funeral director default on his hearse payments?

Was the hearse illegally parked?

Did the hearse itself die?

Couldn’t you still place the coffin in the back of the hearse and have the tow truck cart the hearse and coffin to the cemetery?

WHAT is going through that funeral director’s mind (who, BTW, is probably the guy in front of the coffin with his hands clenched together)?

WHAT is the tow truck driver thinking?  Maybe the deceased is his ex-lover? Maybe he knows the family of the deceased and he’s playing a practical, and very poorly timed, joke?

I need your help with this one.  And I need your caption.

Special thanks to Ken Hagerman for forwarding this photo to me.

It shouldn’t be legal … especially at this hour … during this time of year.

But that’s not any 44 mph.  That’s 44 mph down a four lane highway.  That’s 44 mph in a hearse.  In a hearse with about 30 cars in the funeral procession following behind it.

That’s 44 mph during Friday rush hour.  That’s 44 mph after your long week at work.  After the pressures of pre-Christmas deadlines at work.

That’s 44 mph when you’re trying to pick up your kids from school.

That’s 44 mph when you’re trying to get the last of the 20% off Fijit Friends — a deal that’s only lasting until 5.

And that’s you stuck in that line in the passing lane … trying to pass a funeral procession of 30 cars … that passing lane that’s going about 50 mph because there’s one old lady in that passing lane who was born with a short leg.

Finally, after going the 5 miles in twice the time you normally do, you see the car that signifies the end: the hearse.

As you get closer and closer to passing the hearse, you suddenly realize that this moment you’ve been waiting for is … very … very … awkward.

What do you do?  Do you look over at the vehicle you’ve been been hating on for the last fifteen minutes and give the driver the bird?  Of course you don’t.  Some people do … but you’re not “some people.”

Do you look at the driver of the hearse … and give em a wave of affirmation that says, “Even though everybody else who’s passed you has hated you, and even though I hated you like 20 seconds ago … right now I feel for you and affirm you that you’re fulfilling an honorable position in society … even though you’re making me late for that awesome deal at Costco.”

But I don’t want to put words in your mouth … so take a shot and caption this photo:

]]> http://www.calebwilde.com/2011/12/what-you-hate-about-funerals/feed/ 7 http://www.calebwilde.com/2011/11/caption-this-5/ http://www.calebwilde.com/2011/11/caption-this-5/#comments Fri, 04 Nov 2011 12:01:38 +0000 Caleb Wilde http://www.calebwilde.com/?p=2823 I’ve got a bunch of questions about this photo:

Is this a party?  I’d like to know what KIND of party has a cake made to look like a corpse?

It doesn’t seem to be a very important party as those two “give me more cake” girls are just wearing sweat shirts.

Do you see that little child in the very center of the photo, where are her parents?  I’m not sure I’d let my child go to a funeral let alone eat a piece of corpse cake.  And, I’m really hoping her dad’s not the bearded guy with the glasses, who kinda looks like N.T. Wright, cause he looks like a real creeper.

Is the cake some sort of demented “Tootsie Pop” where the real corpse is buried somewhere in the center of the desert?

Or, maybe this is some literalist Church trying to live out the verse where Jesus says, “This is my body ….”

If this cake was served at your party, would you take a piece?

If I’d take a piece, I’d feel like a zombie … that’s it, maybe this is a Zombie Club?!?

Finally, God help us all.  This is so weird it makes me think the world should end soon … very soon.

Yesterday, as I was leaving the funeral home for the day, I walked out through the front door, onto the porch and there I found my grandfather, sitting there with an ice cream cone in hand talking to one of our wonderful casket salesmen.

For those of you who don’t know my grandfather, he’s a great man and is still working at the funeral home at 80 years young.

And for those of you aren’t familiar with the funeral business, yes, there are casket salesman who show up unexpectedly at our home with their latest innovations, newest selections and tons of talk in tow.

They’re all great people.

But yesterday, it got a little awkward cause as we were all sitting on the porch, another casket salesman (representing a competitive company) pulls into our driveway, gets out of his car and walks up to the porch.

Immediately, the casket salesmen start talking (something salesman do extra well, but do to an even greater degree when they’re uncomfortable), leaving my grandfather sitting in between them with his ice cream cone planted firmly in his mouth.

Of course, I thought it was rather humorous, so I snapped a quick photo with my cell phone.

So, here’s the “caption this” challenge:  What would two competitive casket salesman have to say to each other?

(NOTE: I whited out their faces to respect their privacy … and to make them look like their covered in whipped cream.)

Some funeral directors show their dark colors, and darker sense of humor on the back of their hearses.

But, the hearses in these pictures might not belong to a funeral home.  There are some exceptionally different people who walk this planet.  And some of those people own a hearse and use it as their daily driver.

*****

So, in another life, let’s say you were a little different and decided to purchase a used hearse for your driver, what would you put as the license plate?

Here’s the challenge: you only have EIGHT characters (letters, numbers, spaces) to work with.

You can’t put, “I’m gonna get you” or “Your Last ride”.  Instead you’d have to do something like, “Imagetu” or “Lst Rde”.

If you’re not feeling creative today and nothings coming, encourage those of us who are by “liking” the “license plate” that you think is most creative.

Car Top Carrier

Casket Top Carrier

Thanks to a photo that Bob Eason — a Facebook friend —  showed me, I have a possible explanation to the “Casket on top of a SUV” post I showed yesterday.

After seeing Bob’s great picture that he took on the Chesapeake Bay Bridge (below), let’s hope that the casket strapped on the top of the SUV (above) is a cargo carrier!  Grandma wasn’t in there after all (thank God!), but a bunch of beach supplies and sundry vacation item … pheww … thank goodness … I can sleep tonight!

Genius! A cargo casket, equip with reflectors, a licence plate and what appears to be a dog holding onto bull horns.