It seems cocky to me to request cremation after death. I’m not sure what spurred this on, but perhaps it was Iron & Wine’s song “Naked As We Came.” There are numerous reasons that burying should be preferred to cremation. By either method, you’re going to return to the earth from whence you came. By being buried, however, your body serves as a more immediately-available source of nutrients for saprophytic organisms. Also, relatives have a chance to know exactly where you are and pay their respects. Burying conjures up fewer memories of the Holocaust and is therefore more politically correct.
Cremation, on the other hand, may be cheaper than burial (I’m not sure, but this seems logical), but it’s just hording away your remains and preventing any usefulness. Instead of quickly returning to the soil, you’ll sit in a jar on your spouse’s mantle until he or she too passes away. Then, somewhere down the line, you’ll be sitting around and little Bobby will very innocently knock the urn down while playing ball (or Wii bowling) in the house. One of two things will happen: either he will be immediately caught, or he’ll confess, but since he’s so cute and you’re just great uncle Horace’s ashes, he’ll get away with it and you’ll be swept out and/or inhaled. Alternatively, no one might witness the incident and Bobby might clean up the mess and put flour in the urn in your stead.
The entire argument is moot anyway, since the best option currently is cryogenic freezing, and in the future we’ll all live at least 500 years thanks to genetic advancements and modern medicines. We’re in the waning days of death, people.