Headlines We're Dying to See
by Mad Dog

   Obviously we can’t all have final headlines that describe us as the “Richest man in the world,” “First woman in space,” or “Only person to buy the Waterworld DVD,” especially since in order to have done the last one you’d have to have been legally brain dead at the time you did it. But there’s something a little underwhelming about seeing a headline stating someone was a “Jazz buff and preservationist” or “Gourmet cook had legendary parties.” I’m sure the music was good and the food delicious, but as summations of a life they’re not exactly thrilling.

   This seems to be part of a current trend in which newspapers feel compelled to describe everyone in the headline of their obituary no matter how mundane it sounds. Either this concept was the seminar to attend at last year’s Great Obituary Writers’ Conference in Las Vegas—yes, there really was one—or newspapers have started hiring writers whose mothers did a good job of driving home the adage that “If you can’t say something nice, don’t write an obituary about them.” You know, the kind of people who would have headlined Hitler’s obituary: “Noted vegetarian, art collector, and preserver of German culture.”

   But making up a life can be a lot of work, which is why it’s nice to know you can buy one. In his book, Leading With My Chin, Jay Leno told the story of an embarrassing incident that happened to him on Dinah Shore’s TV show. Unfortunately it never happened. Well it did, but not to him. It actually happened to comedian Jeff Altman, who gladly accepted $1,000 of Leno’s money in return for giving him permission to claim the story as his own. That’s not a bad deal all around, as I’m sure Altman turned around and filled the newly formed void in his life by buying two quality $500 stories from a struggling, up-and-coming comic.

   Try as we may, we can’t be 100 percent sure what the obituary writers will say about us. Some are pretty much a given, such as David Brinkley’s “TV news pioneer,” or the one we’ll see years from now, “Imported Gambian giant rats and spread monkeypox to unsuspecting purchasers of prairie dogs.” Other obituaries remain to be seen, such as the one for Ron Campos, the bachelor on NBC’s dating show For Love or Money. While it looked like he was destined to be remembered with the headline “Shared hot tub with 10 babes on TV,” a revelation that he was thrown out of the Marine Corps after a drunken groping incident may change it to “Last 10 minutes of 15 minutes of fame revoked.”

   This isn’t the first time Hope got to use Mark Twain’s quote about the reports of his death being greatly exaggerated. In 1998 the Associated Press accidentally posted his pre-written obituary on their web site. When Arizona Representative Bob Stump heard about it, he promptly announced to Congress that Hope was dead. Sure the obituary included such important details as, and I quote, “Bob Hope, Tireless Master of the One-Liner, Dead at XX,” but that’s no reason to laugh at Stump. Hey, it could have been a reference to an obscure Bob Hope and Bing Crosby movie, On The Road to Ancient Rome, and the clever obituary writer was letting us know that Hope was twenty years old when he died.

   Personally, I don’t want to know what they’re going to say about me. It will probably be something like “Thought he was clever.” Or “Now we can list our phone number again.” I just hope it’s nothing pedestrian. Unless, of course, I’m hit by a bus while crossing the street. I’m a firm believer in truth in obituaries.

©2003 Mad Dog Productions, Inc. All Rights Reserved.
These columns appear in better newspapers across the country. They're funnier than the obituaries. Usually.