Let’s see here…Between the heat, the humidity, pollen and my never ending battle with the cable company, the last few weeks have been a little post free. For this I apologize. Somewhere in there I took a weekend down to the shore too. I would also like to add that I didn’t even bother to touch the sand. I got to the boardwalk. I looked at the ocean. No beach. It’s not even the beach that bothers me. It’s the sun. I smoke. I drink. I eat way to much red meat, cheese and bacon. I refuse to be killed by skin cancer. As of right now I will list some things that may kill me, and what the odds are of them happening. I am currently in talks with some odds makers in Vegas.
Lung Cancer 2 to 1
Alcohol Poisoning 3 to 1
Random Lightning Strike 5 to 1
Random Lightning Strike (Sunny day, no clouds in the the sky) 10 to 1
Having a price put on my head by my cable provider 15 to 1
Being mauled by fluffy bunnies 50 to 1
Skin Cancer 100 to 1
Now obviously these odds will change over time. Other ways of death will also be added to this list from time to time. I welcome all suggestions. You don’t even need to set the initial odds if you don’t want to. I also want to state that for some reason I seem to have a fascination with my own death. I don’t know why. I don’t care either. I’m sure if I saw a shrink they would tell me that it is unhealthy and they would try to give me drugs or something to make me happy. I am happy you fucks. For some reason I find this funny. If you don’t, then to bad. Go read a self help book and dream about how you want to be just like Martha Stewart. The reality is that we are all going to die. I figure if in the end I have done absolutely nothing useful with my life, in death I could make somebody rich.