Driving down Folsom the other day, I noticed two curious but rather compelling signs.
One simply said, "East Lawn." It was green, white, and red neon. There was a clock on it. The sign was in front of a beautiful ivy wall. What is it? A country club?
Um, no. No. It's a cemetery, speaking of clubs I wouldn't want to join that would have me as a member.
Okay. Why is there a clock at the cemetery?
1. Who's asking what time it is at a cemetery?
2. Let's say that a person in a cemetery needed to know the time? Wouldn't that be the Zombie Apocalypse? Would the zombie care what time it was? "Geez, I gotta meet the other zombies at 6:15 tonight or this attack on the living is gonna be a freaking trainwreck."
3. Would the people in the cemetery be upset if the clock were off? Would they want it fast or slow? Why analog?
4. Is it illuminated brightly in neon so they can see it better? Hmm?
5. Never mind.
Slowing down to take a look, I noticed another sign.
"American Cemetery of the Year."
And, "ACE: American Cemetery of Excellence."
So, who gets to vote? The people in the cemetery? Maybe they have a different view of the place.
"This place is dark. No light. Dark, dark, dark. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING to do. No amenities. At all. And I hate my neighbors. Too quiet. Stiff."
I can just imagine what that award ceremony is like.
"Good evening and welcome to the ACE Awards. Tough crowd, tough crowd. I'm dyin' up here. I know you're out there, I can hear you not breathing."
I doubt even Seth MacFarlane could jazz that one up.
Look, I am sure that East Lawn is a very nice cemetery. And I know that these places are supposed to be places of repose, like an editorial page office. And I don't want any humorless e-mails from East Lawn Cemetery. You guys have to admit it's a little amusing that you are advertising the cemetery as award-winning. A little.
I'm dead to you.