Rotisserie coffin
For some reason Costco takes only Visa
For goods from a goat to six pizzas
You can pay them in cash
But who has such a stash
For a coffin and 10 pounds of cheese, uhh
I was at Costco the other day, and yes, they do have entire goats in the freezer. I go to the Costco Business Center in Northeast Minneapolis; they don’t have quite everything you need (similar to Aldi, where you can save a fortune on most of your list, then get gouged for the rest elsewhere), but the crowds are manageable.
I’ve only had a membership for one year. On my first visit I went to a regular Costco. Because I’d heard it was pure chaos, I went on a Wednesday afternoon during a workday. It was still chaos. I’d like to see Costco electrify the ceiling and have bumper car shopping carts—fully commit to the experience. “You, with the 50-pack of Nature Valley granola bars! You cut me off!” And then you slam into them, do them a favor and jar something loose in their colon.
I hate shopping. I have something like a minor agoraphobia that only arises in situations like crowded malls and other busy places of commerce. Because of this, I sometimes will panic and flee during a shopping experience. I’ll have a list of 20 things I need to get and instead I’ll grab only milk with the understanding that I can survive on milk alone for quite a while.
It’s the mass consumption part of our society (an admittedly big part) that I’ve grown a tumor-like aversion to (Is this right? I’m averse to tumors is what I mean), but at the end of the day, I’m like anyone else. I like saving money when I have to spend it, and Costo sells mostly things you need to live, like 5 pound bags of Haribo gummy bears, and coffins.
Costco is famous, of course, for its loss leaders: a $1.50 hot dog combo and the $4.99 rotisserie chicken. They get you in the door with an appeal to your thrifty stomach, but empty your wallet with an appeal to your greedy mortality, selling things like gold bars, doomsday food buckets, and… caskets. Most of the caskets are $1,349, which is a considerable savings over the average funeral home casket, in case you want to save yourself a last little bit of cash. On Costco’s website, you can even read reviews of the caskets.
They don’t have lots of reviews, because who has time to review a coffin when you’re dead, but many of the reviews they do have are 5 stars. Reviewers speak most often of the price savings and the speed at which the coffin was shipped. People are generally satisfied with the quality of construction, though some have been frustrated that the shipping company damaged the coffin. I read through 70 or 80 reviews to get this information.
Underground Forever started his review off with a joke, saying “I bought this a month ago and I’m so happy it’s so comfortable. Nice finish.”
But most reviewers seem sincere.
Reviewer Deb said of her purchase that it was “Much less than what the funeral home would have charged,” and offered a bit of advice: “Do yourself a favor, and if you know your loved one is toward the end of life, order this casket.”
Reviewer Doolen offered crucial legal information, noting that “The Federal Trade Commission requires that a funeral provider may not refuse, or charge a fee, to handle a casket bought elsewhere.” Doolen notes it was $1,000 less than anywhere else, and that “let me tell you, it was as beautiful as any casket 3 times as much! Thank you Costco!”
Tish made me teary eyed when she said “I purchased this casket for my daddy and it was absolutely beautiful. I truly believe my dad would be pleased. When I shows the funeral director she said oh the one I have comparable to that is $2,900 and it’s not as nice as that one.”
Kathy gave it 4 stars, noting a criteria I hadn’t considered, which is why you read reviews: “I learned that this casket does not have a tilting headrest so my parent was laying pretty flat and harder to see. Not a huge deal but worth noting.”
Another said “Pillows looked so comfy!”
Minneapolis Scientist said that “The ‘bed’ is just cardboard covered by thin fabric. Funeral Director said the ones they sell have a ‘box spring.’”
Both “bed” and “box spring” were in quotations, as though he understood that a bed and its accompanying box spring require something more than a corpse to be what they purport to be.
All in all, the reviews helped me settle on my own casket: the Hampton, Costco’s most expensive offering at about $1,600. With all these savings, I think I can afford to spring for it.
Bonus: Here’s a short video of Ollie, who is now competing with Betty as my favorite pup to watch. I love him so much.
A note on life these days in Minnesota
The poet/novelist Thomas Hardy, in “The Darkling Thrush,” said something like “Fling your soul upon the growing gloom.” He was talking about how a little old bird did that on a cold, gloomy winter’s day.
It’s cold and gloomy in Minneapolis these days, but there’s a lot of flinging going on here. A lot of good people are flapping their wings. If ever there was a time to fling, fling now.
Give your time. Give your money.
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