Confidential memo to fashion show staff: Now, please keep an open mind about this, because times are tough and we still need to cut more costs. We spend a fortune putting on these shows, and why? Because we use live models!

But what if we used dead ones? I don’t mean like really old gross decayed ones, but you know, just very recently departed ones. They don’t complain about the outfits, they don’t talk back and the only cost is some dry ice!

Joey, you get the lawyers to research the laws on dead model usage. Kelli, you go to the hardware store and buy all the wheelbarrows they’ve got….

Slideshow:   Related post: You gals work for the Lone Ranger, or what?

Models present creations from designer Dino Alves Autumn/Winter 2008-2009 collection during Lisbon Fashion Week in Estoril March 6, 2007. REUTERS/Hugo Correia

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Blog Guy, I have an unusual fashion problem.  

I work in Hell. Oh, don’t seem so surprised. It’s a service industry just like anything else! We greet the newcomers, stoke the fires, cook the Brussels sprouts, and so on.

I want clothes that fit with the mood, but still let me have a social life. Outfits that say, ”Welcome to eternal damnation, do you know anybody looking for a fun time?”

Sure! I get the statement you want to make. It’s like, ”I’m Lady Death, but hey, I have a whimsical side, too!” I think some creations from this Paris show would be perfect for you.

Related post: Evening, Mrs. Vader. Darth is over there…

Model presents creations by Japanese designer Yohji Yamamoto as part of his Fall/Winter 2008/09 women’s ready-to-wear fashion show in Paris February 25, 2008. REUTERS/ Gonzalo Fuentes

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Two guys are pushing a dead man in an office chair, see, trying to cash his Social Security check, and… No, that’s not a joke, it really happened in New York.

What’s amazing is they were charged with attempted forgery, but it turned out it was not illegal to wheel a chair around with a body in it!

Once word of this gets out, who knows where it will lead, what with this being New York City and all? I’m predicting…

• A Fifth Avenue parade, called Remains to be Seen, to show off the recently deceased
• A Central Park cadaver race, named, of course, Dead Heat!
• An ad campaign where a furniture maker claims its chairs can roll corpses across town the fastest

Jon Decker reports:

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We ran a story about this tavern whose chicken wings are so spicy, folks who order them have to sign a waiver saying they won’t sue. We immediately heard from readers who said they know lots of places that do the same. Are you KIDDING? So, “If you eat our food and go into a coma that’s tough,” is now a marketing strategy?

What do you suppose these release forms say, anyway? Maybe something like, “Our cook never bathes, we get our chickens from a toxic dump and marinate them overnight in a toilet bowl full of caustic drain cleaner, and by the way if you sign this document, welcome to the U.S. Marines.”

Have these consumers never heard of LAWYERS? It’s their JOB to read your chicken wing documents before you sign them! Don’t go out to eat without one…

Joey Chestnut eats wings as a wingette looks on during the 15th annual Wingbowl event in Philadelphia, in a 2007 file photo. REUTERS/ Tim Shaffer

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I’m always looking for careers that might interest my readers, and you recent grads may want to consider the exciting field of professional mourning. It turns out, some families will pay total strangers to sob, convulse and crawl on the ground at funerals.

You’re thinking, Bob, that sounds too easy, but it’s not. You just try weeping on command. Generally, people who can do that break down into several groups:

• Professional actors
• Two-year-old children
• People who just finished watching “To Kill a Mockingbird”

So, if you think you can do as well as those people can, maybe you should start chopping onions and read Ralph Jennings’ story:

President George W. Bush with a crying baby in a 2006 photo. REUTERS/Jim Bourg

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I’m getting a stream of e-mails from college seniors, frantic over what kind of career to choose in just a few months. Okay, write this down: if there is a job opportunity in which you are expected to hold an apple in your mouth while a dude the color of a Smurf slices into it with a chainsaw, that is not a career for you, even if it pays $8.20 an hour and is sort of show business.

Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m sure this young woman’s parents are very proud of her, and she is getting to see Peru. But if she had taken more home economics courses, or even watched a classic Honeymooners episode, she would know there are far easier ways to disassemble fruit.

If you’re still tempted, watch this slideshow:

A performer from the U.S. known as “The Enigma” uses a chainsaw to cut an apple placed in the mouth of his assistant during his show at the International Tattoo Convention in Lima November 24, 2007. REUTERS/Pilar Olivares

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I’m afraid we’re going to have to award these guys the “Worst Organizers in the History of Earth” award.

See, it was an attempt to break the world’s record for the biggest zombie lurch, which apparently would have required about 900 of the living dead. But the scant 40 who actually showed up were, well, left in the lurch.

Heck, that number would barely make for a good backyard brains barbecue, much less a world record! Listen up, organizers: if you can’t even get the undead to do what you want, it’s going to be a dismal eternity for you. Meanwhile, though, it’s an enjoyable slideshow:

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A man made up to look like a zombie takes part in a bid to break the world record for the “biggest zombie lurch” in Sydney, Australia, September 22, 2007.
REUTERS/Mick Tsikas

If you’re prone to nightmares, maybe you should just skip this item. I’m warning you right now.

The idea of being declared dead before your time isn’t new. Live burial was a big fear in the 19th century, exploited by Edgar Allan Poe in The Premature Burial. As you can see from this old illustration, there were even devices crafted into some coffins, in case you awoke six feet under. I’d like to meet the dude with the presence of mind to say, “Gosh, I seem to have been buried alive! I wonder if my cheap relatives sprung for one of those handy safety devices!”

Anyway, it turns out this Venezuelan guy may have gone through something just about as bad. According to media accounts, he was declared dead after an accident, taken to the morgue, and woke up in pain to find medical examiners performing an autopsy on him.

For their part, the examiners were good sports about it, and immediately began stitching up the incision they had made on his face, while presumably scrambling through the Yellow Pages looking for plastic surgeons. Here is the story:

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Kids, gather ’round the campfire, and I’ll tell you the true story of what happened to a woman in a German cemetery. Just pay no attention to those wolverines and hyenas howling out there in the dark woods.

It was a moonless night, very much like this one, and the wild wind played tricks with the woman’s eyes as she drove up the lonely path amid the tombstones. Well, maybe it was the wind playing tricks, or maybe it was the alcohol she had been drinking, because let me tell you, she’d had a few snorts over the limit.

Well, she lost control of her car and plowed through the graveyard, smashing headstones, until finally she came to a halt… in someone’s grave… And she stayed there, stuck among the dead, until the police came and pulled her out. As they lifted her out, what do you think that woman heard? Oooohhhhh…. She heard those police say she had done $24,000 worth of damage, that’s what.

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People wear masks as they attend a “Day of the Dead” celebration through the streets of Oaxaca City, Mexico, in a 2006 photo. REUTERS/Henry Romero

“Well, Mr. Know-It-All, this is a fine mess. You said, let’s run down this alley, and they’ll go for that dude standing in the doorway! How does that seem to be workin’ for us so far?

“And you were the smarty-pants who said we could yell anything we wanted in English, because bulls only know Spanish! I guess maybe they have a damned foreign phrase book, ya think?

“While we’re at it, you said we’d be safe if we got really, really drunk, because bulls fear the smell of red wine! Don’t you ever get tired of being wrong, Floyd? And another thing…”

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Runners and fighting bulls from the Jose Cebala Gago ranch enter the bullring during the fourth day of the San Fermin festival in Pamplona July 10, 2007. REUTERS/Vincent West