Here in Los Angeles ...

Alas, this turns out to be publicity for a new animated show called Teenage Euthanasia.  A synopsis for the show reads - I SWEAR I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP - 

"“Set in near-future inland Florida, Teenage Euthanasia centres around the owners of Tender Endings funeral home, the Fantasy Family: Grandma Baba, her adult children Uncle Pete and Trophy, and Trophy’s teenage daughter, Euthanasia (“Annie”), a name accidentally given to her during the time of Trophy’s own unbearable suffering. Back when Trophy was a teen herself, she ran away from home after giving birth to Annie, leaving her newborn to be raised by Baba and Uncle Pete.   Now, 15 years later, Trophy returns to Tender Endings…as a corpse, for burial. When a bolt of lightning strikes Baba’s homemade embalming fluid and one of Annie’s tears, Trophy comes back from the dead. As a resurrected woman, Trophy has a variety of quasi-useful death powers. But more importantly, she has a second chance at unplanned parenthood.”

Actually, plenty of late C19th novels had plots just as weird (and really not all that dissimilar) from this, if one leaves off the last line.

I was somewhat disappointed that a quick Google revealed that what I'd seen driving back from the dentist was not For Real ... I mean, on Santa Monica Boulevard, approaching West Hollywood, anything is possible.  It was the Two for the Price of One that raised my suspicions.  But it had me musing on coffins all the way back home.  Plain wicker will do for me, thank you.  My father was holding forth the other week about the good value and practicality of cardboard ... I guess glitter would stick quite well to one, although he seems to have been particularly struck by a family friend buried in one that had been covered with paint hand-prints from the small children with whom she'd worked through her South London faith group, which does, admittedly, sound rather touching ...