Tuesday, May 16, 2006


When you die you give up a lot of of things. Birds that sing in the Spring, the boy who brings your Sunday Times, viewing the evening news on any channel that you choose, breaking in a new pair of shoes, a summer cruise, a bottle of booze, playing a game you win or lose.

There will be no more steaks or chocolate cakes, no coffee breaks or pains and aches or skinny dipping in the lake. No more taking a plane or train to a secret rendezvous. And what ever you useta done for fun you can no longer do.

You will lose your credit card, the money you worked so hard to save. Your family probably spent a lot for a plot six feet deep in the ground where your remains will remain while bugs and slugs and other creeps disturb you in your eternal sleep and keep you up endless nights with their nibbles and their bites. But when birds come to sit on your stone you'll know that you are not alone.

You won't hunger for younger women and a last-longer stronger libido to show you've got the go-go-go to respond to any buxom blonde who catches your eye and is willing to go beddiebie.

If death was due to HIV, even the ivy on your stone will leave you alone and the insects in the coffin next to you, busy as a bumble bee, will give you unlimited privacy.

Forget everything you've read, There's much to be said for being dead. Not all good. not all bad. So let your relatives be sad. Life, when all is said and done, is just a passing fad.


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