Comedian Woody Allen once said that it’s impossible to whistle a tune while pondering one’s own death. And yet that is exactly what we want to do on this All Saints’ Day 2009. We’re not going to whistle, but we’re going to put death in its place.

Every once in a while a series of epitaphs come across the Internet. I’m glad that we can find humor even in cemeteries. Here are some of the best ones I’ve seen:

“Harry Edsel Smith of Albany, New York: Died 1942. Looked up the elevator shaft to see if the car was on the way down. It was.”

Or this one from an English cemetery: “Anna Wallace The children of Israel wanted bread, and the Lord sent them manna. Clark Wallace wanted a wife, and the Devil sent him Anna.”

In a New Mexico cemetery: “Here lies Johnny Yeast . . . Pardon me for not rising…