An old man passes in the street with his collar turned up against the wind. His winter coat a standard looking piece with the exception of the aforementioned collar; preposterously tall, the underside a rainbow of sickly-looking pastels. Such is the manner in which indignities are foisted upon the elderly by a generation that knows better.
When the time comes he will be laid out in the now-standard pale pink two-piece with ruffled white shirt. A bulbous red clown nose affixed over his own, as has become fashionable to lighten funeral proceedings. Another move towards relieving the crushing weight of anything solemn, or serious. Or dignified.
I cant help but think forward fifty years, picturing myself hobbling gamely along the amblement utility with my Confluence Rod™ extended at an absurdly oblique angle. Much to the amusement of everyone on our residential sector.