Mmmmmm Body Ooze.

Once again fulfilling a most amazing stereotype, some of my family in Argentina is buried in an old all-Italian cemetery in Córdoba in a 4 X 4 wall plot with 16 slots for coffins. The section is labeled "Flia. Pensso" after my great great relative (uncle? grandpa? ex-roomate's cousin's father? Seriously, who fuckin even knows at this point) José ‘Pepe’ Pensso, and we went to visit my Nona Elisa there in the graveyard... Came across some very interesting grave sites. The VIP families like to place their loved ones in coffins made of wood, inside small-roomed upright tombs super antique style. But wooden coffins, my Tio Alberto explained to us, means that every few years when the body has decayed enough, existing relatives must pay to re-coffin the person. Like, buy a new coffin, scoop out their beloved's remains, pop them into the new one, and put it back on the shelf. This brings up so many logistical problems... Do they line the coffins so that the body ooze doesn't drip out onto the floor? How much money does it take to find someone who is willing to do that job for you? How do they hide the smell of the rotting bodies everywhere?

This last question is super key... Because half the tomb-rooms have open windows or only curtains covering small slots in the walls... So my dad and I kept sticking our noses in the windows to see if we could smell anything... Touché, my Italian paisans... I do not know how you work your magic, but you successfully mask our race's natural death odors. Or maybe the Italians really are as superior as we believe ourselves to be... Just watch Jersey Shore. You'll know.


Guess you can't see so well in this shot, but up close and in person that bottom coffin is sagggggggin... time to change Aunt Oozy-Face-Juices. It's like something straight out of Faulkner. Yum.