Another nail in the coffin
More fun with clichés. Today’s, Another nail in the coffin. Let’s ponder this cliché for a moment, shall we? An idiom. Or as I like to call this one, an idiotard.
Literally speaking, unless your, I assume poor, and tossed into a wood box, contemporary coffins have big ass clips to seal in death juices.
Jews (my people) bury our dearly or annoyingly departed (I love this ritual, by the way). Still. If, on top of that, I had to schlep a ginormous hammer and a box of nails graveside to seal the deal, I’d scream, URN, please! Shoveling dirt is sufficient exercise after a slew of eulogies and before the after party nosh.
I digress.
Another nail in the coffin:
- On people who still write checks at grocery store express lines with a mile of people behind them.
- On people who blare their horns at you while you’re waiting for a pedestrian to cross the intersection so you don’t whack the snatch.
- On ancient car salesmen with comb-overs draped in sateen suits who still eat “Hungry Man” dinners and proudly exit their house in the morning, in their 1960’s tank top with blood orange pit stains.
My spin on Another nail in the coffin is: Use a nail gun and aim for the head, it’s quicker and less tiring.