From today's New Yorker on why "we" are so fat (not you! You look greaaaat), comes word of Goliath Caskets, who make "triple-wide coffins with reinforced hinges that can hold up to eleven hundred pounds." The New Yorker describes the American passion for extreme (by which I mean, not the normal and perfectly acceptable bulking-up as one ages) weight gain, in a review of the current literature, as mysterious!
But is it really?
Before McDonald's discovered the power of re-portioning, it offered just a small bag of French fries, which contained two hundred calories. Today, a small order of fries has two hundred and thirty calories, and a large order five hundred. (Add fifteen calories for each package of ketchup.) Similarly, a McDonald's soda used to be eight ounces. Today, a small soda is sixteen ounces (a hundred and fifty calories), and a large soda is thirty-two ounces (three hundred calories).As McDonald's is the number one customer for beef in the United States, and one of the top purchasers of potatoes, and it serves nearly 50 million people every day, I think maybe we could start looking around there?
Oh and also, you know, the constant stuffing of faces with corn syrup, but yeah.
"Serving the needs of the oversized casket community for 20 years".
Really...there's a "community"?
Please. Anyone can have a "community" these days. Also, it only takes three losers in a basement with internet access to constitute a "subculture" these days.
You need some sensitivity training, buster.
The names of the caskets (Harvest, Heartland, Homestead) are a good clue as to where you might find that community on a US map.
In the "real" America, where you will find "real Americans". And Sarah Palin, too. Also.
Harvest is just ... wow. Harvest. HARVEST.
Emily, they thought 'Reaper' and 'Scythe' weren't euphemistic enough.
Obesity is not the only use for these! I just ordered one for my huge cock. It will be interred separately. I have it all mapped out in my living will.
When you have a design for its monument, POST A LINK HERE!!!
The Final Home of the Whopper.
Q) Why do these coffins have reinforced hinges?
A) Because people are dying to get in them.
I believe the hinges are reinforced in order to keep the really fat zombies from escaping.
I'm getting one of those coffins and taking a couple of people with me.
My two most trusted servants and my best retriever are coming with me.
Every man a Pharaoh ....
Seriously. Stuff a bunch of people in there with you when you go (preferably still-alive virgins) and then you have yourself a TOMB!
Oh, sure, the oversized casket may be embarrassing, but remember the Guinness Book's World's Fattest Man, Robert Earle Hughes, the 900+ pounder who was buried in a piano case?* Well, the big casket is less embarrassing than that.
*Apparently, the piano case story is a myth. Who knew?
Feh, bury the fatties in old refrigerators.
The cemetary better make them buy two plots for this sucker. I'll be damned to hell before I let some dude's coffin spill over into my final resting place.
Nah, tip the coffin up on its end and bury it standing up. Or, for Yoga folks, on its head.
The real problem is finding a pallbearer with a license to operate a forklift.
Or an eight man rowing crew.
Their Urns come in Venti!
At last, a way to be buried with two hookers.
Well, that's fine, so long as you understand that Saint Peter is not letting them through the Golden Arches.
Judge ye not...
Looks like the caskets have plenty or room for sacrificial burgers, fries and sodas to accompany the departed.
from the about us page:
In 1985, Keith's father, Forrest Davis, (Pee Wee) quit his job as a welder in a casket factory and said, “Boys, I’m gonna go home and build oversize caskets that you would be proud to put your mother in.â€Â
A place for you AND your demons.
Guessing that Federal Air Emission standards won't allow for the cremation of these people?
Nice!
Au contraire. I feel an alternative energy stimulus grant coming on.
NO LONGER WILL YOUR FAT CHILDREN BE HARD TO SHOP FOR EVEN IN DEATH! It is every American mother's saddest dream. No joke.