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-by J. Doug Gill
Ah, the tradition of the wedding ceremony. Flowing white dresses, fragrant bouquets of flora, relatives rumbling in the parking lot of the rented VFW hall and the corpse in the corner all point to the arrival of the special day.
Corpse?
Jason and Rachael Storm, of St. Joseph Township, Michigan, tied the knot in a ceremony held in the funeral home where Mr. Storm serves as the director.
“I look at it as, if you go to a church and get married,” Storm told his hometown newspaper, “how many caskets do you think have been rolled down that aisle?”
Good point, but how does he counter the argument that most churches don’t offer the bride a reposing room in which to do her make-up?
Now we’ve all seen the video of the scuba-diving lovers who exchange vows underwater. In Great Britain recently, a couple (along with a 67 year-old vicar), climbed aboard bi-planes and was married high above the English countryside.
And in Las Vegas, nuptial-minded pairs can be married by Elvis, married in costume or married in the nude. If you’ve ever encountered the couple in the casino’s buffet line that resemble Jared in his pre-Subway days, however, you’d no doubt pass on witnessing their nuptials.
Still, compared to a place where the catafalque that holds your chicken or prime rib just hours ago held the late Mrs. Battlebaum, I’ll stand-up for the naked baccarat-addicts from Des Moines, thank you very much.
The reception, featuring dinner and dancing, was also held in the funeral home. Just what white people need: more proof they dance like the first stages of algor mortis has begun. Read more here... and here.


