Hamm, a 60-year-old tattoo aficionado, realized one day that he had about $10,000 worth of ink on his back, all of which had significant meaning to him. His grandson had designed some, and many others had their own specific meanings. Can you let all that go to waste just because of a silly thing like death? Hell no. The solution was clear: find a way to skin yourself and preserve it like fine leather after death. If serial killers can do it, why not you and me?
National Association For The Preservation Of Skin Art
Plus, your loved ones save money on a winter coat.
If you sign up for the service, your loved ones will notify the company once you finally get hit by that milk truck, and the company sends them a package in the mail. They will then have sit down with the funeral director and discuss the usual stuff -- type of coffin, headstone, hilarious spring snakes that jump out during the service, etc. Only now, they add in a new request: Would you mind having the cut man in the basement remove grandpa's skin and put it in this box?
The removed skin gets mailed back to the company, whose employees then go about their preservation technique, which takes up to six months and therefore makes me believe it's kind of like making the world's greatest beef jerky. You just dry rub that shit with salt, and let it sit in a room with precisely controlled heat and humidity until it's perfect. Then, they mail it back. Everyone wins, except you, because you're dead and skinless. But, someone else just got a wicked Christmas gift from beyond the grave.