LOS ANGELES — Acclaimed director David Lynch was laid to rest today in a funeral that attendees called “a kaleidoscopic tour through the endless dark.”
Two generations of filmmakers turned out to say goodbye to Lynch, in an elaborate ceremony held at a condemned bowling alley in Little Tokyo. Attendees were ushered into the venue by two 7’-tall identical white men who did not speak or blink, and served coffee and cigarettes by caterers who, one assumes, were hired because they resembled the most famous people in the room.
The ceremony was officiated by an unidentified woman who read the day’s weather report aloud through tears, while only dressed in a black hat, veil, and opera gloves. She then gave a eulogy for a local porn producer named Dick Laurent before vanishing into the shadows behind her podium.
After 15 minutes of perfect silence, attendees who attempted to leave discovered that all the exits had disappeared. Several found other ways out via other doors inside the building, which led to other locations throughout Los Angeles County, including a cheap hotel in San Dimas and a greasy spoon in Alhambra. At time of writing, roughly half the people who attended Lynch’s funeral have yet to reappear in public.
“Oh, I thought it was perfect,” actress Laura Dern told Hard Drive. “The important thing about David’s funeral is what you personally take away from it. Asking what he intended is beyond the point.”
Dern continued, “Sure, I wish I knew where Nick [Cage] is now, or why his voicemail message has been replaced by a string of numbers read in a monotonous baritone, but I have faith in David’s vision. I’m sure Nick’s enjoying himself, wherever or whenever he is.”
Other attendees of the funeral weren’t as thrilled with the experience.
“I spent twenty-three years as a claims adjuster named Dexter Burbank,” said Justin Theroux, who appeared in Lynch’s final film, 2006’s Inland Empire. “I experienced every moment of Dexter’s quiet desperation, who was deeply unhappy in every way that counted and desperate for a way out. Then I, we, learned his wife was cheating on him, and dead, and also a wholly different person who sang in a 1930s jazz combo. I woke up in a dumpster, as myself, and cried. I guess it’s what David would’ve wanted.”
Lynch was 78. His family has requested that, in lieu of flowers, donations be sent to a random post office box in Venice Beach. Once an arbitrary amount of funding has been reached, the money will be used as an impetus for a tragicomic sequence of events with an uncertain ending.
