I’ve been trying to read Mary Roach’s Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers for about two weeks now. I think I’m done trying.
I mean, it’s not that the book isn’t good – it totally is! No really! I love her writing style. I’m genuinely interested in the subject matter. I just can’t seem to focus. It’s like trying to eat quinoa and eggplant when you really just want a cheeseburger. Maybe I should just read Twilight again…
A lot of the book is really quite thought provoking. For example, did you realize that necrophilia wasn’t illegal in a single US state until 1965? Actually, today it’s still only illegal in sixteen states. For you mathematically challenged, that means it’s totally legal to drill the deceased in *pauses to call Thom for help with arithmetic* thirty-four states. Thirty four!
Nevada is one of the states that deems necrophilia a no-no. Their law is quite explicit even. Can you imagine being the stenographer when they put this bad boy on the books?
It is a felony to engage in cunnilingus, fellatio, or any intrusion of any part of a person’s body, or any object manipulated or inserted by a person into the genital or anal openings of the body of another where the offender performs these acts on the dead body of a human being.
Really, I don’t seem much gray area there. Way to go, Nevada! I think they add in that “of a human being” caveat because they’re so near Area 51. What you do to the body of a dead alien in Nevada is your own business. Obviously.
The book also made me rethink what to do with my body when Jeff Buckley and I are reunited in the great CBGB’s in the sky. Originally, I wanted to be an organ donor and then have what was left cremated. Thing is, after reading about the cancer rates in transplant patients that received organs from cancer survivors, I’m pretty sure no one will want any of my bits.
I suppose I could donate me to science, but you can’t stipulate how your bod is used. I really don’t want my head chopped off so some med student can practice his brow-lifts. I don’t really want to be left in the wetlands for weeks on end so forensic scientists can learn to pin-point the exact moment a mobster was whacked. No-siree-bob.
I know what I want to be when I grow up…and then grow old, and then bite it. I want to be a crash test dummy. Hells yes! Strap my cadaver ass into a car and hurl me into stationary objects! Dig this:
For every cadaver that rode the crash sleds to test three-point seat belts, 61 lives per year have been saved. For every cadaver that took an air bag in the face, 147 people per year survive otherwise fatal head-ons. For every corpse whose head has hammered a windshield, 68 lives per year are saved.
Word to the worm food, right?!? Who knew you could get so much use out of a dead body? Well, I guess necrophiliacs in thirty-four states find plenty of uses for dead bodies.
Ew. I grossed myself out again.
Do you think zombies would make for good crash test dummies? It’s about time we found a way for the un-dead to contribute to society, don’t you think?
And now I can’t stop singing that addictive 90’s song – “Once there was a kid who….”
I’m going to stop now. Really.
“mmmm, mmmm, mmmm, mmmm”