In honour of Qing Ming, I thought I'd do a little entry about Chinese funerals. Some people might not know that part of a Chinese funeral is burning things like paper money, paper houses, etc. that you can bring with you to Hell. We don't have Heaven, by the way, because we believe in reincarnation, so you have to go to Hell to hang out for a while, and then you get reborn. Hell isn't the same thing as it is in the West, it's not necessarily about eternal damnation and being poked in da rass with a pitchfork. I guess our concept of Hell is closer to the ancient Greek notion of Hades.
Anyway, so funeral paper accessories have gotten fancier and fancier because people be wanting some swag to take with them. I thought it would be interesting for people to see what the latest in funeral accessories is.
First we got the traditional stuff: incense sticks and those paper bags that are full of paper money.
When you're in Hell, you need to grab your boombox and hit the turbo bass!
Alright, I know it wasn't a boombox, but come on, how could I resist posting that video?
And of course, you need a limo and a chauffeur. I wonder if this poor dude knew what his picture was being used for. My friends reading this: when I die, please burn me a lowrider with hydraulics. It would be HILARIOUS.
Of course, you gotta stay connected, so you need your cellphones and shit. There was an iPhone and Blackberry somewhere, but I didn't bother searching for it. There are also laptops and iPads and whatever else because, obviously, Facebook exists in Hell.
And you gotta take some snacks with you because it's going to be a Hell of a trip. Yes, I'm going to pop a painkiller now and stop.
And of course, you need a baller house straight out of MTV Cribs! Again, my dear friends, please watch that show for Babyface's house and burn me a replica of that. Check out the demure lady that comes with the house who can stand for a mistress or a maid, whichever suits you more. I also like the satellite dish, dog and swimming pool. Dudes, please burn me a bunch of young men swimming in the pool, too! Just Photoshop the pictures of the actors in Takashi Miike's Crows, and we'll be cool. And of course, you need to gate all that swag and keep the poor riffraff who don't have relatives to burn nice shit for them out.
Of course, you need your lakefront property, with yacht and, weirdly, a rowboat. When my paternal grandfather died, I didn't make it to the funeral (I have no idea where I was at the time. Canada? Italy? The US? Who can remember?), so I didn't get to see what kind of swag he had. My brother told me later that he had this Barbie Dream House-type stuff, including a harem of Barbies.
My brother: I think he's going to be really disappointed to find a bunch of white women waiting for him.
And you gotta keep your bitches looking boss, so there are some designer bags and shoes for them, too.
And you can't forget a futuristic chair massager. Jesus, does that thing exist in real life? It looks like the chair that killed Goose in Top Gun.
You can see a lot of shops like this along Queen's Road West.
