Taking Out the Trash

So all the neofeminists, crypto-moralists and consent-culture fanatics are upset because Hugh Hefner bought the mausoleum drawer next to the one holding Marilyn Monroe’s skeletal remains; most of these articles by folks without actual problems to worry about use phrases like “without her consent”, as though a carcass could consent to anything even before it completely rotted away.  Yes, actual adult humans are up in arms over the fact that a hunk of rotting meat is going to be sealed up in a box next to another one containing a half-century mouldered set of bones.  Really, people.  I know y’all have cherished mumbo-jumbo sympathetic magic beliefs about corpses, but the truth is that they’re hunks of dead meat, bones and viscera that quickly decompose into fertilizer.  They’re nothing but garbage.  They’re not “sacred” or magic; they don’t have mystic powers, nor even much monetary value unless they were under 40 or so and the organs are removed within minutes after death.  They’re not people; they have no feelings, and they can’t be “desecrated” because they aren’t sacred in the first place.  And they absolutely, positively, have no ability to “consent” to jack shit, nor does their nonexistent consent need to be sought.  Next you’re going to tell me it’s “creepy” that all the garbage from all the sex symbols in Hollywood are thrown together into the same dump without the previous owners’ “consent”.  OMG MEN’S SHIT GETS TREATED IN THE SAME PLANT AS WOMEN’S WITHOUT THEIR CONSENT!  RAAAAAPE!!!!  Furthermore, stop calling graves “final resting places”.  They’re garbage cans; nobody is “resting” there.  Organic matter is decomposing; that’s all.  I believe in souls; some of you reading this do and some don’t.  But I think we all agree that at death, whatever makes a person human departs; it’s gone, for good.  There is nothing of it left in the cadaver, which is no more “sacred” than discarded clothes.  The idea that the corpse is “sacred” is a primitive one from the childhood of Mankind; some believed (and a few still do) that at the end of the world souls would come back into their bodies, which would re-animate.  You know the song “Dem Bones“?  That’s what it’s about.  But this is a childish belief for childish minds.  One can believe in souls or gods without the silly notion that stiffs need to be cherished like treasured keepsakes for the next 5 billion years (which is roughly the end of the world).  Guess what?  If bodies really do need to be preserved for that long for you to have eternal life, you’re shit out of luck because I guarantee no one skeleton is going to be in resurrectable condition in a period of time further into the future than life has existed on Earth.  A couple of partial fossils maybe, from all the humans that have ever existed, all hundred billion or so of us.  So let this dumbass corpse-worship shit go; it’s even stupider than the pretense that a person’s motive for sex can magically pollute it and harm all women everywhere.  Which is to say, extremely stupid.