I feel the need to put something profound here, as I'll probably be dying over the weekend during Operation Golden Earring. It'd be weird if I actually did die this weekend, and then the local news would run a bunch of idiot stories saying LOCAL MAN PREDICTS OWN DEMISE ON WEB SITE!!! Except they'd call it a blog, probably, and my hatred for that term is probably enough to reanimate me. I'd be bound by the zombie code to haunt the reporter then, and I'd need all kinds of haunting equipment, like heavy chains and severed goat heads. So, all in all, it's for the best if I don't die this weekend. Or if I do, I need to leave instructions beforehand on how to wipe this post out. I hope everyone is clear on the chain of events here.
All of this brings up the subject of last words. It seems to me that everyone wishes to utter something profound just before passing onto the great marshmallow factory in the sky. Not me. I could try to come up with something amazing, but I know if I did, I would never be able to think of it when the time came. I would be there on my death bed with my family near, and with my last breath, I'd start, "Always tr... wait wait. Never tr... No, hang on. Sometimes? Is the first word 'sometimes'? I should've written it down in my wallet." And that'll be it. On my tombstone will be the immortal words, "I should've written it down in my wallet."
I most likely will not take that route. But the other option could be even worse. Let's say I don't come up with anything at all, and then one day while sitting in the hospital, it hits me. Then whatever I said last would be the last words. I'd put money that it'd be either "Go get the nurse, I just messed myself," or "Who's in charge of the jello rations at this dump?" In either case, the obituary writer could write that I died doing what I loved.
* I don't actually love to mess myself. I don't want anyone using that quote against me when I run for state railroad commissioner.
** I also don't think I'll die this weekend. I'll probably lose an eye and all of the hair on my body, but death isn't the frontrunner.