Comedic legend Joan Rivers passed away today (September 4) after suffering from cardiac arrest and being placed into a medically induced coma.
As Hollywood sheds tears in remembrance of her fabulous presence and pioneering efforts in comedy, Rivers continues to be the quickest to the punchline with an over-the-top self-planned funeral service outlined in her 2013 book I Hate Everyone…Starting with Me.
As always, she had plenty of unforgettable quips—even when it came to the subject of death. How did Joan feel about funerals? She absolutely “loves” them, calling the mournful event a “red carpet show for dead people.”
“It’s a chance for mourners from all walks of life to accessorize basic black,” Rivers joked. “And to make a fashion statement that is bold enough to draw attention away from the bereaved, but subtle enough so that no one knows that it’s happening. And, it’s a great way to have quiet fun.”
The fashionista also laid out exactly how she wished to be celebrated in death, from the dining options all the way to the entertainment. Here’s the rundown:
“When I die (and yes, Melissa, that day will come; and yes, Melissa, everything’s in your name), I want my funeral to be a huge showbiz affair with lights, cameras, action…”
“I want Craft services…”
“I want paparazzi…”
“And I want publicists making a scene!”
“I want it to be Hollywood all the way. I don’t want some rabbi rambling on; I want Meryl Streep crying, in five different accents.”
“I don’t want a eulogy; I want Bobby Vinton to pick up my head and sing ‘Mr. Lonely.’ “
“I want to look gorgeous, better dead than I do alive. I want to be buried in a Valentino gown and I want Harry Winston to make me a toe tag.”
“And I want a wind machine so that even in the casket my hair is blowing just like Beyonce’s.”
Rivers wanted to go out with a bang. In the book, she she envisioned the end in her own words:
“When my time comes I’m going to go out in highs type. I have no intention of being sick or lingering or dragging on and on and boring everyone I know. I have no intention of coughing and wheezing for months on end. One morning you’ll wake up and read a headline: Joan Rivers Found Dead…On George Clooney’s Face. Clooney Was So Bereft All He Could Say Was, ‘Xjfhfyrnem.'”