*Updated
COVID if you’re unvaxxed.
__________________
Sept. 29, 2021
How would I like to die if I had my druthers which, of course, I don't? Painless is key. If I'm in fucking pain, somehow, someway, I'm getting to off myself. I am not clinging to a life of hopeless pain. I'll take Door A in a New York minute.
If I'm ticking off death boxes, I'd like there to be enough time to say my goodbyes to my loved ones, and to give my final fuck yous, to the more numerous cohort of of individuals I detest.
I’d like there to be purpose. I don't know if I could kill, say, President Biden's illegitimate, disgraced un-Anerican, barely human predecessor. And what if I fail? A suicide vest would do the trick but all those wires and I'm not mechanically inclined. Plus collateral damage would be a minus. Flight 93, "Let's roll," on 9/11 would tick all of my ideal death boxes..
So those are the parameters of my perfect death. Now to the stupid and embarrassing deaths. I've gathered some of these from my life's work. During the Florida Marlins first World Series championship some young man had the idea to string a "Go Marlins!" banner from the elevated people mover in Miami. He positioned himself on the tracks, the train was at a dead stand still and he laid down on the tracks to hang the banner. The people mover was on automatic signal to go after, like, 10 minutes. A friend who he was with heard a groan and looked at his friend. The car had begun to move automatically and literally squeezed the air and the guts out of the celebrating Marlin whose body became unrecognizably human as it was wrapped around the people mover's steel wheels. That was a stupid death in my book. I hope to avoid something like that.
A truck driver carrying a load of oranges failed to negotiate a sharp turn on exit in Miami, drove off the road down an embankment where he was crushed to death by the weight of the cab and the cargo of oranges. The fucking oranges were still there weeks later. Death by oranges is embarrassing.
Then there was the construction worker who was working above a pool of quick-drying cement. The scaffold he was on gave way and he was entombed instantly.
The collapse of Champlain Towers South is similarly an unacceptable way of dying to me.
Historically, a man died when he fell after tripping over his floor length beard. Was that really worth the price of a pair of scissors dude?
Then there was the guy, an ex-cop who retired from the force for heart problems. I knew him only by one degree of separation. He was found in his garage. He was discovered in his nudidity. A black-colored dildo was found next to his naked body. As he was fantasizing about the ecstasies of interracial sodomy the excitement was too much for his ticker and he collapsed dead as a door nail. Check that way off of dying for me.
I will die of cancer I am quite sure and you can take this to the bank. Those who worship at the Temple of Aesculapius will receive clear, vehement instructions from me that they can forget their professional axiom, 'If you can't cut, you can't cure!" You come into my hospital room with a scalpel and I'll grab it and stick it up your ass. You are not going to turn me, as you did my mother, into the Monty Python character who had first one limb lopped off, then another, then a third. You will treat my symptoms, which will be pain, and you will ignore "root causes." Fuck root causes and the sprigs of physic from which they branch. Morphine, morphine, and more morphine, oops over did it! Sowy. That would be great.
Having thought for years about the alternatives and convinced on the likely path I will trod to the gates of Hades I seek only to avoid pain, stupidity and embarrassment.
Out (for tonight).
