The other day my wife and I and our friend Rob got into a discussion on what are plans were on our death. I have had a great life and I have tried to make the world a better place so although I do not want to rush into it- I am not afraid of death. What shocked my wife and my friend is that I had given it so much thought. I even have a song picked out!

Take a moment today and realize that sometimes we take life too seriously. Let’s not do the same in death.

Future Dead Me Is Throwing the Party of a Lifetime (Literally)

You ever sit around and think about your posthumous party plans? No? Just me? Well, buckle up buttercup, because I’m not going out with a whimper—I’m going out with Kevin Bacon, Charlie Sheen, and maybe a little emotional sabotage courtesy of Olivia Munn.

Let’s start at the beginning. Like many dreamers, I occasionally fantasize about winning the lottery. Not just a few bucks—no, I mean the full, glittering, ruin-your-humble-relationships Powerball fantasy. But unlike most people, I plan to use some of my winnings not on a yacht or a private island, but on my Celebration of Life party. That’s right. A party after I die. And it’s gonna be legendary.

The Guest List Is… Unusual

See, while some people want tearful speeches from close friends or maybe a slideshow of slightly embarrassing childhood photos, I’m taking it up a notch. I’m hiring professional actors—famous ones—to show up at my memorial and pretend they knew me intimately.

Picture this: Everyone’s gathered, reminiscing about the time I spilled barbecue on the carpet or whatever, and then boom—Charlie Sheen walks in, visibly shaken. “I just… I just can’t believe they’re gone,” he whispers, clutching a program like it’s the last cocaine napkin he ever touched. People will gasp. “Wait, did Tony know Charlie Sheen?” someone will ask. “I thought they hated ‘Two and a Half Men!’”

Then, five minutes later: Kevin Bacon strolls in. Somber. Dignified. He approaches my urn (yes, we’ll get to that), places a hand on it like we just finished our final conga line last month in Cabo, and mutters, “We were closer than anyone knew. I’ll miss you, buddy.” Boom. Six degrees of confusion. My family may never recover.

A Little Mystery, A Lot of Munn

But that’s not all. I’m injecting a slow-burn emotional twist into this Oscar-worthy event. Enter Olivia Munn. She arrives quietly, like a whispered rumor in an overpriced perfume ad. She doesn’t mingle. She doesn’t speak. She approaches the urn, drops a single note onto the table, dabs her eye, and walks away. People read the note: “I always had feelings for you. Wish I had the opportunity to have expressed them.”

Will anyone know if it’s true? Absolutely not. But will it haunt them forever? Oh yes. Especially those who dumped on me in high school. You’re welcome.

Pop Goes the Urn

Now, I did mention cremation. I’m going into an urn. But this isn’t just any urn—it’s part of the entertainment. Halfway through the party, right after people have just calmed down from the Olivia Munn emotional hit, “Pop Goes the Weasel”starts playing. Slowly. Creepily. Everyone turns toward the urn.

Is it going to pop? Is this a prank? Is this my soul saying hello? No one will know. And that, my friends, is the spice of life. Or death. Whatever.

Closing Remarks (Also Possibly by Morgan Freeman, TBD)

Look, we don’t get to control much after we’re gone. But with a little financial planning and a lot of questionable priorities, I plan to leave my loved ones with one final gift: confusion, laughter, and deeply misplaced envy.

So wish me luck on the lottery. And remember, if you see Kevin Bacon crying over a mahogany urn one day, just smile knowingly. We were very close.

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Eulogy Delivered by His Holiness, the Pope

(Probably very confused, but committed to the bit)

“My dear brothers and sisters,

We gather today not in a cathedral or a chapel, but in what I am told is a moderately priced event space near a Dave & Buster’s. It is here, surrounded by friends, family, and… is that Charlie Sheen? Yes? Okay… that we celebrate the life of a remarkable soul of Tony Retrosi.

Now, I must admit, when I received the invitation to speak at this memorial, I was surprised. Not because I am unfamiliar with Tony—we exchanged exactly zero letters, prayers, or sacraments in recent decades—but because of his unique relationship with the Church. Yes, he was what we might call a lapsed Catholic, a term which here means: raised Catholic, guilt intact, but hasn’t been to Mass since at least the Obama administration.

And yet, in his own chaotic, beautifully unorthodox way, he embodied the spirit of community, joy, and endless curiosity. He questioned, he doubted, he sometimes yelled at priests during weddings, but Tony also loved. Tony celebrated life with a passion that makes this entire party—complete with musical urns and Olivia Munn—feel like the Gospel according to Guy Ritchie.

In the Catholic faith, we believe in redemption, grace, and the power of a good party. And I have been assured, by my team and at least three baffled cardinals, that this is exactly what they would have wanted.

So to Tony my departed sibling in Christ, I say: You may not have been present for the Eucharist, but you were absolutely present for the hors d’oeuvres. And perhaps that is its own kind of communion.

May eternal light shine upon you—preferably with a soft filter and ambient lighting—and may you rest forever in peace, joy, and just enough mystery to make the haters uncomfortable.

Amen.”

Posthumous Letter to His Holiness the Pope

(Sent from beyond, but with perfect comedic timing)

To: His Holiness Pope [Insert Current Pope’s Name Here] I am hoping for Pope Hilarious II
From: Tony Retrosi, Lapsed (but not rude) Catholic
Re: My Funeral and the Accidental RSVP Mix-up

Your Holiness,

First off, let me say thank you. I know you’re a busy man—world peace, doctrine, exorcisms, Italian lunch—and I really appreciate you taking the time to speak at my Celebration of Life. I realize this probably wasn’t high on your papal planner, especially sandwiched between canonizing saints and mediating international conflict. But I’m glad you came, even if under slightly misleading pretenses.

You see, Your Holiness, there may have been… let’s call it a clerical error. A Vatican intern (or possibly a guy named Kyle on Fiverr) sent you the invite along with a forged RSVP from “Bishop Francis of Totally Real Diocese.” Honestly, I didn’t think it would work. I just wanted to make my cousins do a spit take when the Pope showed up at my memorial flanked by Swiss Guards and confusion.

Also—I should clarify: while I may have missed a few (okay, all) Sunday masses after age 16, I always kept a rosary tangled in my junk drawer at our house in Italy and felt vaguely guilty about everything. So spiritually, I was still on-brand.

I do hope you enjoyed the hummus spread. Sorry about the urn thing. I know “Pop Goes the Weasel” isn’t liturgically approved, but you’ve gotta admit—it’s got a hook.

And finally, thank you for the kind words. I never got around to confession, but having the Pope deliver my eulogy kind of feels like skipping straight to the Vatican FastPass, doesn’t it?

May God bless you. And may you never again be tricked into attending a funeral that ends with Charlie Sheen doing karaoke.

Sincerely,
Tony
Culturally Catholic, Spiritually Confused, Eternally Grateful

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Vatican Press Office Statement

For Immediate Release
Subject: Papal Attendance at the Memorial Service of [Your Name]

In response to widespread media coverage and viral social media posts featuring His Holiness Pope Hilarious II seated uncomfortably between Kevin Bacon and a crying Olivia Munn, the Vatican would like to issue the following clarification:

The Holy Father’s presence at the memorial service of Tony Retrosi was, of course, entirely intentional and deeply meaningful.

Though some have characterized Tony Retrosi as a “lapsed Catholic,” we prefer to recognize them as a freelance theologian with boundary issues. Their unconventional approach to faith—marked by humor, occasional sacrilege, and an unwavering commitment to confusing their relatives—reflects the kind of messy, authentic humanity that God probably finds amusing.

While the initial invitation appeared to have been delivered via pizza receipt and may have involved a forged diocesan seal drawn in crayon, the Holy See embraces the opportunity to meet people where they are, even if “where they are” includes a party DJ and a confetti cannon that went off during the Hail Mary.

His Holiness was deeply moved by the service, especially the note left by actress Olivia Munn and the unexpected musical interlude involving “Pop Goes the Weasel” and a spring-loaded urn.

Let it be known: Tony Retrosi is officially remembered as a beloved child of God, a master of posthumous mischief, and now—unavoidably—a footnote in Vatican protocol training.

We extend our blessings to all who attended, and assure the public that the Pope was, indeed, aware of most of what was happening. Probably.

In Christ (and mild confusion),
The Vatican Press Office
Pontifical Department of Damage Control and Holy Surprises

The Secret After-Party: Vatican VIP Edition

While most guests shuffled out of the Celebration of Life processing the emotional rollercoaster of Pope tears, celebrity eulogies, and the traumatic memory of your ashes threatening to spring forth mid-chorus of “Pop Goes the Weasel,” a smaller, more exclusive crowd received mysterious golden wristbands with the words: “One Last Blessing.”

They were quietly ushered to a nearby Dave & Buster’s.

The Pope entered first. Still in full white robes, he politely declined the airbrushed “R.I.P. TONY” T-shirt being handed out, but did accept a mozzarella stick with quiet grace.

Then in strutted Charlie Sheen, holding a tray of jello shots and shouting, “Let’s consecrate the night, Your Holiness!” To which the Pope—only slightly weary—replied, “Let us pray you don’t remember this tomorrow.”

Kevin Bacon challenged two cardinals to a Dance Dance Revolution battle. They lost, but with dignity. Olivia Munn, still mysterious, spent the evening silently feeding tickets into the prize counter. She left with a lava lamp and what may or may not have been emotional closure.

And then… it happened.

Air Hockey Showdown: Sheen vs. The Pope.

It was a best-of-three. No one blinked. The Pope adjusted his zucchetto (that’s the little hat—he doesn’t play around), and with a whispered “Deus vult,” he sent the puck screaming across the table. Charlie returned fire with a wild shot that knocked a passing nacho into someone’s memorial slideshow.

The final score:
Pope – 2
Charlie Sheen – 1
The Afterlife – speechless

As the party wrapped up, the Pope raised his root beer in your honor. “They may have lapsed,” he said solemnly, “but they never missed a chance to make heaven laugh.”

Then he pressed a single button on a nearby claw machine, and every toy inside released at once. No one knows how. No one asked.

Olivia Munn’s Whisper to the Urn

As the after-party wound down and the Vatican’s security detail gently escorted the Pope away from a Skee-Ball tournament gone theological, the room dimmed. The air was soft with neon glow, mozzarella fumes, and just a hint of divine confusion.

That’s when she returned.

Olivia Munn, radiant and reserved, stepped quietly back into the now-empty party hall. The air stilled. Even the popcorn machine paused, respectfully.

She approached the urn—my urn—still slightly tilted from the earlier “Pop Goes the Weasel” incident. She knelt down, smoothing her dress, and leaned in close. Her lips were inches away, her voice barely audible. But if you had been there (which, let’s face it, spiritually you were), you would’ve heard her whisper:

“You were the one I never got to understand… and the one I never stopped thinking about.”

She placed a single silver coin next to the urn. No one knows what it meant. A symbol of regret? An inside joke? A down payment for eternity?

Then, without another word, she turned and walked away, the hem of her dress sweeping over the fallen Bingo card from earlier. A soft door click. Gone.

Back at the Vatican, a Swiss Guard who was live streaming the event swore he saw the urn shimmer.

Probably nothing.
Probably.