Location Be Damned, I Need Some Rest

by Francis Parrilli


Photo: Rachel Smith at phantompapers.com


Photo: Rachel Smith at phantompapers.com


Photo: Rachel Smith at phantompapers.com


Photo: Rachel Smith at phantompapers.com



Location Be Damned, I Need Some Rest

Feature from "The Location Issue" Continues



$ 122,450 reviews

Accepts Credit Cards: Yes. Parking: Private Lot. Wheelchair Accessible: Yes. Good for Kids: Yes. Good for Groups: Yes. Attire: Casual. Noise Level: Average. Good For Dancing: Yes. Alcohol: Yes. Best Nights: Sat. Takes Reservations: Yes.

As the global population continues along the path of astronomical growth and the once plenteous vacancy of land continues to diminish, the pursuit of post-mortem prime real estate is more fiercely competitive than ever. Why spend diminishing financial resources on the likes of coastal Malibu or Monaco when you’re going to spend more time in a pine box than on a picturesque balcony? Be it urn, casket, pyre, or crypt, the secrets to an eternity of pious contentment may simply lay in the geographic splendor of where you do. So choose wisely, this is one long-term lease that is unbreakable.

While the King is allegedly tenderly tucked under the well-manicured lawns of Graceland, the Queen of the Omega Point (or Illinois as it may) flaunts her roots in a suburb of Chicago. An Archdiocese–owned shroudland of columbarium niches, enormous stained glass structures, an extensive garden complex, and elaborate mosaics, this Roman Catholic stronghold reflects the finer architectural points of its paternal metropolis. Thanks to the likes of a long line of talented craftsmen from the Daprato Rigali Studios, this 472-acre orchard of bones exhibits some of the most elaborate marble statuary and shrines in North America.

A “family friendly” and organized crime-laden afterlife location, the new-yet-classically minded buyer looking toward the Midwest for solace once their life essence is gone should feel senescent gratification in a royally intrinsic catechistic realm, despite winter’s embalmer gray skies and the traffic noise peeling off the asphalt of nearby Eisenhower Expressway.

Written by Francis Parrilli