It’s Your Funeral: Make It Memorable

AD COPY to be read aloud during a late-night AM radio broadcast or printed in the back pages of The Atlantic next to a Swiss watch ad and a long-form essay on despair in the Midwest:

“Bliss Eternal™ Memorial Services: Because Even Death Deserves an Upsell.”

Are you tired of cookie-cutter funerals that feel like they were designed by a DMV employee on Ambien? Does the prospect of your final earthly sendoff involving beige folding chairs and a CD of Josh Groban’s greatest hits fill you with existential ennui? Or worse: the feeling that your entire existence might be reduced to a laminated program with a typo in your name?

We know you probably have an image of some sad taupe chapel in your head right now. We don’t blame you. Most funeral homes look like the waiting room of a dentist who moonlights as a youth pastor.

So do you really want your last big moment to be orchestrated by people who treat it like it’s a badly lit PTA meeting in a converted Elks Lodge? Think off-brand soda in Styrofoam cups. Glass bowls of hard candies with synthetic Dow Chemical flavours. An unattended urn on top of a plastic tablecloth that has visible Sharpie marks from past events labelled “LORDY, LORDY, LOOK WHO’S FORTY!!!” Well, suffer no more (existentially or otherwise): Welcome to Bliss Eternal™, where your death is our business, and business, frankly, is booming (what with mortality being a non-recessionary industry and all).

Picture this: You, finally unshackled from the Unbearable Finiteness of Being, lying in a hand-hewn, locally sourced sustainable pine box (or perhaps an eco-urn that turns your ashes into a lavender bush*), surrounded by tasteful LED mood lighting, artisanal charcuterie spreads and an algorithm-curated slideshow of your life’s Top 8 Moments (as determined by engagement metrics**). *Subject to climate zone restrictions. Lavender bush may be substituted with drought-tolerant succulents or a QR code that links to your curated Spotify playlist.

** Optional mahogany upgrades and tasteful jazz sax and/or Satie’s Gymnopédie No. 1 at the viewing available. And don’t forget to ask about “Tuesday Specials for Seniors!”

Our Packages Include:

• The Influencer’s Exit™

  
  

  Involves: branded hashtag, live-streamed casket lowering, and a partnership with Audible. (Every mourner gets a free audiobook — suggested title: The Big Dirt Nap.)

  
  

• The Neo-Stoic’s Sendoff™

  
  

  Features Gregorian chant remixes, meditation cushions instead of pews and a eulogy delivered by a certified life coach with a minor in the consolations of Seneca.

  
  

• The Midwestern™

  
  

  Just a guy in a suit quietly saying “he was a good man” while someone microwaves a casserole in the back.* * Funeral potatoes are extra. Must be requested at time of pre-need consultation.

We also offer pre-need packages, because nothing says “I’ve succeeded in life” like pre-selecting the font for your own tombstone. (The most popular epitaph in 2025, BTW: “He/She/They Lived, LOL. Least popular: His/Her/Their Mother Was a Hamster and His/Her/Their Father Smelled of Elderberries.) Choose from such options as:

• Helvetica: For the clean, minimalist, secretly anxious modernist.

  
  

• Papyrus: For the ex-yoga teacher who still owns crystals and lava lamps.

  
  

• Comic Sans: … Please don’t. We’re not monsters.

  
  

And because we understand death is about those left behind, all packages include a complimentary ”GriefTech™ Aftercare Subscription” — an AI companion* who texts your loved ones once a month with such vaguely comforting platitudes as: “They’re watching over you”, “You’re doing great”, or “Remember: entropy comes for us all, but in the meantime brush your teeth and clip those toenails.” “Your body may return to the Earth**, but your brand, your emotional arc, your Final Narrative™ will live on — in tasteful 4K, hosted permanently on a secure grief-optimized streaming platform.”*** * Still in Beta. May accidentally quote Monty Python skits during delicate emotional moments. ** Earth here being defined loosely as “any available cemetery zoned for mixed-use commercial purposes.” In some rural municipalities in Saskatchewan, your resting place may double as a seasonal pumpkin patch or NFT art installation.

*** Free trial for the first 14 days after death. After that, certain terms and conditions may apply. Secure grief-optimized streaming platform is currently hosted on a deprecated Vimeo clone from Estonia. Buffering times may apply. Testimonials may be altered for tone. Stuffing option pending but not currently available outside of Texas, Alabama and Medicine Hat. Bliss Eternal™: Because even in the throes of cosmic absurdity, you can still go out with curated lighting and hors d’oeuvres. Now, you may be asking: “Isn’t all this a little … extra?”

To which we say: No. What’s extra is being dispatched to your eternal reward in a polyester suit your cousin Elwood picked because it was 40% off at Value Village and he never really liked you anyway. (For all you know, it might be the very suit the previous owner was wearing when he passed into Glory.)

What’s not extra is going out with your own Death Soundtrack™, pre-selected from a library of royalty-free ambient despair. But hey. It’s your funeral. You only get one chance to make a lasting last impression.

CALL NOW and receive a free tote bag that says “Ask Me About My Mortality” — perfect for farmers’ markets, therapy appointments or passive-aggressively signalling to your book club that you’ve read the complete works of JoJo Savard. BUT WAIT! CALL NOW and you’ll also receive a free Moodboard Consultation™ with one of our Certified Mourning Stylists*, plus a complimentary copy of our new zine, Bury Me on the Lone Prairie if You Must, But for God’s Sake Make It Aesthetic. * Mourning Stylists are not legally permitted to advise on actual grief. They are mostly visual merchandisers from Forever 21. But they do have quite an eye for tasteful neutrals.  CALL NOW. Our operators are lying by. Unlike death, these prices won’t last forever.

[Fade out as Satie’s Gymnopédie No. 1 plays softly in the background]