I've read that hydrogen peroxide, perhaps Oxy-clean, and some of the bio-active enzyme and bacterial cultures used to treat biological spills can be used to clean clothing exposed to liquefied human.

Be careful with the bio-remediation agents as some are capable of digesting cellulose. Use the wrong type, at to high a concentration, for too long, and you could destroy your cotton and cotton blend clothing.

On one of my early jobs we used a commercial enzyme-bacterial brew that went by the name "Alive!" mix with warm water, let set for a time, and spray it on blood, sewage, liquefied crud draining from a dumpster, whatever. It liquefies the semi-solids, paper, eliminated the smell and dissolved many stains so they could be hosed or wet-vacuumed up.

Worked wonders on carpets fouled by domestic animals and post-crime cleanup where blood soaked the carpeting. Spray it on generously, let sit, wet vacuum up, repeat as needed. Use too much too long and it can dissolve the manila fiber backing. Allowing the carpet to loose dimensional stability and wrinkling. Whoops. No biggie; the carpet was toast anyway.

Peroxide and enzyme mixes are often better than the usual go-to agent, bleach. Pour bleach onto a large sewage spill and you get caustic chlorine gas mixed with the stifling pong of the sewage. Not the sort of thing most people were trying for. Bleach works fine on small spills.

Pine-Sol Followed Up with Murphy's oil Soap,Does a Real Good Job of DeCon, For Carcass Crud!

I'll have to get some oil of cloves and use it to deal with my neighbor's cigars. I don't know why he only smokes those suckers when the wind is blowing my way...

I Agree,Cigar smoke smell's like Burning manure,& If someone should ask,Yes,I do know what Burning Manure smell's like!....CIGARS!!!!

Not to be contrary but having lived most of my life in the Mushroom Capital of the World I'm more than familiar with the smell of burning horse manure (cured manure is the growth medium of choice for many mushroom growers). When those piles of curing manure are turned or, heaven forbid, catch fire, you don't want to be downwind of them. I'll take my neighbor's stinky cigars anytime.

Back in the 50's they use to sterilize the soil they combined with the manure with CS gas, or it's commercial equivalent. You really didn't want to be downwind of that operation. Of course, in those pre-OSHA days, no one was too concerned with respiratory safety.

To this day still not a big fan of mushrooms.

Bodies, other than the sentimental aspects of it possibly belonging to a departed love one, are just more dead meat.
That can be a health hazard, and the bodies need to be buried or disposed of in a manner that removes that hazard.

During a possible crisis that resulted in thousands of dead bodies, the old "let the dead bury the dead" might have to be followed.

I should have been more Specific,I had the Cool Job of Burning Human Manure,Whilst Serving in The Middle East! Burning Road Apples is Pleasant,I've eaten Breakfast,Lunch & Dinner,Cooked on a Fire,Created solely from Horse/Mule Dung!Cigar smoke smells like Burning Human Manure,Less the AV Gas!

The joke among cigar smoker is that there is a DIFFERENCE between cheap and expensive cigars. There isn't... they all stink.

Sue

"You must choose between me and your cigar."
--BREACH OF PROMISE CASE, CIRCA 1885.

Open the old cigar-box, get me a Cuba stout,
For things are running crossways, and Maggie and I are out.

We quarrelled about Havanas--we fought o'er a good cheroot,
And I knew she is exacting, and she says I am a brute.

Open the old cigar-box--let me consider a space;
In the soft blue veil of the vapour musing on Maggie's face.

Maggie is pretty to look at--Maggie's a loving lass,
But the prettiest cheeks must wrinkle, the truest of loves must pass.

There's peace in a Larranaga, there's calm in a Henry Clay;
But the best cigar in an hour is finished and thrown away--

Thrown away for another as perfect and ripe and brown--
But I could not throw away Maggie for fear o' the talk o' the town!

Maggie, my wife at fifty--grey and dour and old--
With never another Maggie to purchase for love or gold!

And the light of Days that have Been the dark of the Days that Are,
And Love's torch stinking and stale, like the butt of a dead cigar--

The butt of a dead cigar you are bound to keep in your pocket--
With never a new one to light tho' it's charred and black to the socket!

Open the old cigar-box--let me consider a while.
Here is a mild Manila--there is a wifely smile.

Which is the better portion--bondage bought with a ring,
Or a harem of dusky beauties, fifty tied in a string?

Counsellors cunning and silent--comforters true and tried,
And never a one of the fifty to sneer at a rival bride?

Thought in the early morning, solace in time of woes,
Peace in the hush of the twilight, balm ere my eyelids close,

This will the fifty give me, asking nought in return,
With only a Suttee's passion--to do their duty and burn.

This will the fifty give me. When they are spent and dead,
Five times other fifties shall be my servants instead.

The furrows of far-off Java, the isles of the Spanish Main,
When they hear my harem is empty will send me my brides again.

I will take no heed to their raiment, nor food for their mouths withal,
So long as the gulls are nesting, so long as the showers fall.

I will scent 'em with best vanilla, with tea will I temper their hides,
And the Moor and the Mormon shall envy who read of the tale of my brides.

For Maggie has written a letter to give me my choice between
The wee little whimpering Love and the great god Nick o' Teen.

And I have been servant of Love for barely a twelvemonth clear,
But I have been Priest of Cabanas a matter of seven year;

And the gloom of my bachelor days is flecked with the cheery light
Of stumps that I burned to Friendship and Pleasure and Work and Fight.

And I turn my eyes to the future that Maggie and I must prove,
But the only light on the marshes is the Will-o'-the-Wisp of Love.

Will it see me safe through my journey or leave me bogged in the mire?
Since a puff of tobacco can cloud it, shall I follow the fitful fire?

Open the old cigar-box--let me consider anew--
Old friends, and who is Maggie that I should abandon you?

A million surplus Maggies are willing to bear the yoke;
And a woman is only a woman, but a good Cigar is a Smoke.

Light me another Cuba--I hold to my first-sworn vows.
If Maggie will have no rival, I'll have no Maggie for Spouse!




-THE END-
Rudyard Kipling's poem: The Betrothed