Far be it for me to speak ill of the dead. Actually . . . scratch that. Truth be told, everyone dies, plenty of dead people were assholes when they were alive, and I see no reason to pretend otherwise.
This is a moot point right now though, because the couple on this tombstone is not dead yet as far as I know, and yet here is their joint gravestone with their pictures airbrushed in stone and (it's hard to see) their birth dates with a "--" blank for when they eventually die.
The "living tombstone" monument thing would be a little weird in a cemetery, though less surprising. But this thing (can I call it a thing? I'm not sure what else to call it) was installed on the property in Maine where we were staying last week, and I guess these are the owners.
The owners who want you to know (a) exactly who they are, and that they shall rock 80s hair and glasses for all eternity; (b) that they will someday be buried together; and (c) that their mortal bones will rest next to a basketball court and overlooking the lake where you just took a standup paddle board out for a spin. (Side note: I kind of secretly crushed it at my maiden standup paddle boarding voyage).
Anyway, this seems pretty fucking cray to me. To not even be dead yet, but set your gravestone up with your spouse on your property which you open to the public so everyone knows you own the place and will be buried there?
But what do I know? I plan to be cremated and DGAF what happens to my ashes afterwards. In other words, you can place me squarely at the very opposite end of the death rite spectrum from this conspicuously macabre display.
Simply put, I don't get it and don't want to.