Nov 23 - My Living Will

Lately, I’ve been thinking about how I’m going to wrap up my mortality. Because I have definite preferences about how I want to handle and I’d be happy to explain these preferences with my last breath. But what if death visits when I’m bound and gagged or I have a mouthful of pie? My friends would be in charge. And while I love them, I wouldn’t let them pick out a bagel for me, much less handle my end of life sidework. So I have created this living will, instructions for various scenarios, and as much as a dead person can bend people to their will, I want my wishes followed, or else.

I, like most people, do not want to be inhabited by an evil, alien force. If my eyes start to glow orange and there is an alien-shaped hole in my stomach, there is a strong chance that I have been possessed. If I start saying hooey like, “Dave is in here, but he can’t hear you”, then I am definitely inhabited. Please feel free to destroy my body at your convenience. What’s the best way to do away with me? I guess it really depends on the otherworldly creature, though I’ll tell you this, my first choice would be a shovel. If my eyes glow yellow, there is a chance that I have hepatitis and should be taken to the doctor immediately.

If I die doing something oddly heroic I don’t want any potentially uncontrollable mobs at my funeral. Recently I’ve seen several funerals on television where such mobs are so smitten with a dead person that they knock down the coffin and tear the body apart. While I would appreciate the outpouring of feeling, I don’t want those people within grabbing distance of my lifeless husk. I never let strangers touch me in life, why would I let them after life? Also, discourage people from firing guns in the air because those bullets have to come down somewhere.

Please don’t tell people that “he would have wanted to go that way”, unless I am hit by a leaky morphine truck while eating a corndog. Please note, “eating a corndog” is not a euphemism.

If I a mysterious, wealthy benefactor wants to freeze my body cryogenically, don’t just let them freeze my head. While I’m sure the future will have cures for many diseases, I doubt they’ll have a cure for beheading.

I don’t necessarily want my last words repeated, especially if they are “Look what I can do!” or “Watch this!”

If I am, again, lured into the sea otter exhibit at the aquarium and this time I am eaten by said otters, I would like those otters killed by tigers who have been teased with sea otter puppets.

If, as I expect, I am crushed by a ball of frozen urine dropped by an airliner, I don’t want a big deal made of it. Don’t tell anecdotes about it and definitely don’t call those hacks at the local television news. Death is bad enough without the humiliation of having my corpse soaked with the urine of strangers.

Finally, I don’t want to be buried or cremated. I would like to be smeared with peanut butter and put out in the woods. And I’m not talking about some city park or an underpass, I’m talking the wilderness. Unless, of course, noted scientists believe that my body smeared with peanut butter would turn turn ordinary forest animals (squirrels, chipmunks, baby rabbits and skunks) into insatiable flesh lusters and thus a threat to lovers of the outdoors and joggers.

Please note, that the above wishes should be disregarded in the following cases...
1. If I appear in a dream telling you not to kill me.
2. If I am only pretending to be gravely ill.

As always, racing towards death,


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