When SalGal uses the word “death” in a sentence, you just don’t argue with her, so when I asked her what she thought we should blog about today, she said, “Death.” I must say, it’s probably the only subject to which we have yet to turn … and some would say, “rightly so.” But, I can find humor in any subject so I’m going to take a whack at this death thingy, too!
Since none of us really knows that mystery yet, and yes, I’m talking to you “near-death-experiencers,” too. You all didn’t get all the way there, so who’s to say that the light at the end of that tunnel isn’t just more sky as you drop off over the cliff’s edge where the tunnel ends? I’m just sayin’. You know three-fourths of death, but not all of it, or you wouldn’t be here! Those of us who have not had that experience continue to walk about willy nilly without thinking about how fucking short our time on the planet is. Because in the grand scheme, if I clicked my fingers—poof—that’s about as long as we have. Then, you’d be in the fifth dimension just yearning for a cheeseburger with onion rings now that cholesterol is no longer an issue for you, while we continue to pile on the plaque in our vessels like painting thick, black tar on a new road because we think the reaper doesn’t have our address.
If you could know how and when you would die, wouldn’t you want to know that? Sal and I have decided that hell yeah, we would want to know. I’ll bet there are half who would want to know and the other half who think they know better. Man, I’d pile on the fun, food, booze, cigarettes, sex, romance, and a mansion in Italy to put it all in. Until an actual dead person appears before me to say that I’m doing it all wrong, I’m going to continue to try to keep my own little corner clean here on the planet in thought, word, and deed … try to stop saying fuck so much, actually quit smoking once and for all, be nicer to the disabled grocery baggers at the store, and not ever kick my cat, Dammit, again.
May there please be a God! A woman God!
Death to resolutions. Every damn site on this computer has done nothing but spout out about the damn things and I’m sick of it. It’s the death of the year 2008 and that’s fine with me. I’m sick to death of some things and those include stupid Santa songs like “Santa Baby,” people killing and stampeding each other for a good shopping deal (what is this, Hollywood?), and too many Black Forest Hams getting massacred in the name of a good family brawl. It’s all dead for another year, thank the baby Jesus and all he stood for.
If you check out our most recent two videos, you will see that one of them stars The Ancient One. If you were to ask her about death, she would spout something her mother told her sixty years ago or just look at you like you think too much. Now, here is a woman who is closer to the outer-body experience than most on the planet and she has replaced any thoughts about death with a constant stream of news flashes on Fox News. I think she goes about as deep as a Burger King ashtray. I think she thinks her moment of death will be really scary (her mother instilled that fear into her early on) and then she will be in heaven and have unlimited access to Marlboros, Hershey’s Kisses, and Tony Bennet’s dressing room. No deep discussions here and I guess I’m glad.
You may wonder what I think about my own death. I’m pretty scared but I also believe that it will be the greatest moment of my life here on the good old planet earth. I believe in the whole white light, loved ones showing up, and flying up above the body thingy. No more weight problem, no more need for money, and no more wondering what happened to Amelia Earhart.
I once had a conversation with a wonderful Greek man who was very profound and told me about an old Greek poem. He said it was about an old sage of a man who said of death that if he knew it was coming, he would go to the town and stand on the corner and sing and yell out everything he knew. He would fill the world and all the ears with all of his knowledge, so that when death came to get him, there would be nothing for him to take but bones.
That’s a great story. I don’t feel that I will have to worry about death for many, many years so I don’t worry too much about it. I imagine all the dead people thought that, too. I am fighting off death with Yoga, careful driving, and humor. These things make you live longer. Those and love … and music … oh yeah, and green chili chicken enchiladas. I’m enjoying my life and living it so that when death comes to get me, he will have nothing to take but a vodka soaked lemon peel, a Brainiac game, and a pair of leopard-print Michael Kors ultra-suede dance shoes. Fuck you, death. You lose.