Two Alabama game wardens have devised a smoking send-off for avid hunters and gun enthusiasts. For a small fee, they will turn cremated ashes into ammunition that the deceased’s loved ones can fire at will.
Thad Holmes and Clem Parnell dreamed up a company that would fill shotgun shells and rifle or pistol cartridges with ashes, allowing gun enthusiasts to spend eternity the way they lived their lives.
“People take ashes and spread them across lakes or forests or throw them in rivers, and nobody thinks twice about that. This is no different,” said Holmes, who noted that a pound of ash fills about 250 shotgun shells. — stuff.co.nz
Say it with gunpowder. How touching.
It’s not on the same level with Keith Richards rolling his da’s ashes up in a joint to share with his mates at the graveyard. Except, of course, that never really happened.
Actually, I like this concept, especially if those shotgun cells are deployed in the murder of another family member. Thinning the herd is nature’s way of advancing the species by eliminating the weak, the lame, and the stoopid.
Really, I have nothing against guns or gun owners. I’ve been wanting a handgun in the house for years, but Guido is convinced, not without good reason, that anybody as blind and incompetent as I am shouldn’t have one. And then there’s the death threats I scream at the fucking dog thrice daily, reaching for my Ozzie Smith 34 oz. Louisville Slugger. Some people lack sufficient maturity to possess weapons. Unfortunately, many of those same people own enough deadly weapons to overflow their own assholes with lead.
So this concept leaves me on the sidelines. I understand wanting to remember your loved ones fondly, but why ground those memories in anything as mundane as a shotgun shell? When I think of the dearly departed, I don’t want props, relics, or souvenirs. That strikes me as shallow, if not somewhat sick. But then again, so do gun fetishists generally.
Anyway, now it’s off to suck my thumb and take my nap. Where’s my blanket?