By Rob Beschizza at 7:09 am Mon, Jan 14, 2013
Fredrik Hjelmquist, operator of a music store in Sweden, has invented a hi-fi coffin so that the dead may listen to their favorite tunes in the afterlife.
Clearly aimed at the vampire demographic.
Who could ask for more?
I think I’d rather have a telephone. That was one of Bell’s first ideas to use it for. There was a morbid fear of premature burial then.
You would never think it to look at it, but Interline’s YV70 internal fabric covering is something else entirely.
Coming in the form of highly sound-attuned lace—the delightfully minimalist aspect isn’t just astyling exercise; the linen notes are designed to impose aperiodic fidelity.
Added to my coffin, the effects were immediately apparent: chewy, perfumed lows and vanilla highs rounded off with a grapey minerality thatunveils the YV70’s fruity, perhaps too-acidic tang. Suggestive hints of anise draw the curtains.
Available in linen, silk, and black velour, YV70 fabric is available now. Be sure to inform the manufacturer how much you’ve spent on stereo equipment so it can best serve your needs.
it used to be worms were the only ones that made death into consumptive choices.
I’m sure this will be a big hit at gang boss’ funerals.
More importantly, can it be rigged to spontaneously start playing music like “Don’t Fear the Reaper” or “The Monster Mash” in the middle of the funeral?
Does it have enough wattage to properly troll a graveyard in the afterlife?
Add an MP3 of screaming and shouts to be let out at max volume just for fun!
Mistake: Pissing off the relatives who will eventually buy your coffin.
Repercussions: Eternal Rickroll.
Why does this remind me of “Revelation of the Daleks”?
What stops a living person from buying and enjoying it?
How does one get repairs or warranty service?
What powers it?
I’d rather have that woman run her gloved hands over me for all eternity… how do I get that?
Does it connect to iTunes or will the dead have to listen to the same AC/DC album for all eternity?
Kings made tombs more splendid than houses of the living and counted old names in the rolls of their descent dearer than the names of sons. Childless lords sat in aged halls musing on heraldry; in secret chambers withered men compounded strong elixirs, or in high cold towers asked questions of the stars.
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