On Obituaries, Anti-Aging Drugs, Biological Warfare, iPhone Apps & More!
• A guy in Mississippi died this week. And his obituary went viral. I’m not entirely sure what constitutes “viral” anymore, but if CNN picks up on it…I guess it has proliferated through the Internet enough that CNN got wind of it. Still, I’m unimpressed. This obituary has nothing on the “Very Explicit Set Of Instructions For [Me] Upon [My Sister's] Untimely Demise” that was sent to my attention last week. It’s…it’s pretty impressive. Check this out:
If applicable, and it likely will be, make sure I’m dressed before the medics come to get me. In the very least, brush my hair. Don’t break the news gently. To anyone. Mom included. Simply say “she’s dead.” I think that’s probably easiest to process, and it doesn’t leave any room for interpretation. If I don’t die as I intend to (valiantly, fighting off a shark, or with a headline-worthy event) please make something up. You’re good at that. Don’t jump to conclusions about the events leading up to my death. Just take the actual story and embellish it in a way that makes you look good. Make it about you Evan. “She died atop the toilet” or something similar is not really an awesome lasting legacy. Speaking of lasting legacy, please change all of my online profile statuses to “Dead.” Do NOT make a Facebook tribute page to me – it’s gauche and we all know everyone is just going to post embarrassing shit on it. Do feel free to post a photo on my instagram with the caption “She’s dead and she’s ok with that.” DO NOT BURY ME. We’ve gone over this since we were aged 3 and 4. Don’t fucking put me in some frilly dress and display me in a velvet lined coffin in a stuffy funeral parlor. Jews don’t do that anyway, but we’re not such good ones so I feel I should clarify to be safe. Rather, burn me to a crisp then gather the ashes and dump them somewhere appropriate, perhaps on Brian Urlacher’s doorstep, or that space in dad’s backyard where Teddy I and Teddy II are buried and where Sprocket liked to pees. Do not hold a funeral. Do feel free to invite people over to partake of a moon-bounce. If anyone feels the express desire to reconcile my death with their faith, they may do so on your own. Do hold a memorial service, but make sure that it is completely tasteless and seemingly inappropriate. Play a few country tunes for me, and also throw in maybe like, you singing an acoustic take on Raffi’s “Baby Beluga” while people drink shots of Patron out of Dixie cups with riddles on them. If you’re going to serve beer, please make it Allegash White or something from Magic Hat… not something like Budweiser. Don’t be cheap. Take one of my credit cards before anyone cancels them and buy a few cases of Fat Tire, ok? Do not get up and speak about me. For the love of god, don’t do that. If it makes you feel better, do dramatic readings of my facebook statuses. Actually, yea… Do that. Make sure my underwear drawer and the “secret” place under my bed are cleaned out of sexual paraphernalia and Superman underoos before anyone – Mom especially – comes to clean the place out. Do not explain in great detail what anything is to her, no matter how much she asks. She still thinks sexting is when you text six people at the same time. Make sure Liz gets all my shoes and bags (translation: make sure Liz gets her shoes and bags back). Delete my browser history. Leave the Netflix account as is and let the instant queue for both The Snowtown Murders and Marvin’s Room be a testament to my apparent bipolar disorder. Do not speak ill of me privately Evan… you take that shit public. Write all your blog posts about how much you secretly hated me. Post all the awful photos you’ve taken of me. Do not make a slideshow of my instagram and put sappy music in the background and pithy quotes about life on the photos. I will seriously haunt the fuck out of you if you do this. Don’t tell work I’m dead. Fuck them… Let them think I just stopped showing up. See how long it takes them to fire me. Then, when they do, show them the obituary (which you will have no doubt penned) and yell PSYCH! Play my Words With Friends games for me. Do NOT let Aaron win. Fight over my iPad and my soon-to-be-acquired Macbook. Delete all my apps and start over. You have permission to use my Verizon upgrade and get yourself whatever new iPhone is out. Post excerpts from my not-yet published book in a series in whatever magazine will accept them… even if it’s some lame muscle car forum. Understand that chapter 8, paragraph 6 is MOST DEFINITELY about you. Take what’s left of my Xanax and Percocet and do what you wish with them. Erect a tiny statue of me (the bobble-head Andrea had made for me will suffice) and leave it somewhere in the Giant’s Stadium parking lot. Make sure everyone knows it’s still Giant’s Stadium in my book. Leave my car outside somewhere and let the birds make an everlasting bathroom of it. Speak well of me. In lieu of speaking well, talk shit. Do not send flowers. Don’t ever send flowers.
• In a somewhat-related story, a new drug being developed (which uses resveratrol, a compound found in red wine) could extend our life expectancies to 150 years! That’s almost double the current lifespan, right? We’re living into our 70s now? I mean…even that’s impressive, considering how so many of my family members are dead. What would it be like if they were all still here. I’d have gotten to know my grandparents (for better or worse), I might even have met some of the REAL nuts on my dad’s side of the family. I hear some of those people were seriously deranged. Anyway, 150 years is kind of a low number considering once the singularity occurs within the next 20-30 years our super intelligence will lead us to discover ways to extend ourselves waaaaaay beyond 100 or even 150 years. I just have to keep myself alive that long, and maybe I’ll have a chance to live forever! [story]
• “A rosewood violin played by bandmaster Wallace Hartley on the Titanic deck as the ship sank has been confirmed as authentic by investigators, and could soon be brought to auction.” Wow guys, do you think Leonardo DiCaprio touched it when HE was on the Titanic!? Do you think the salt stains are from when he totally did it with…uh…what’s her name? Rose…no, that’s her character’s name. That British bitch. The chunky one. Oh well, one of you figure it out and get back to me. I’m too busy to look it up. [story]
• Good news, people who fear infectious diseases! The United States is stockpiling massive quantities of smallpox drugs in the event of a biological attack. Supposedly we’ve spent over $400 million so that we’ll have reserves enough to treat 200 million infections if they occur on American soil. Elsewhere in the world, any evildoer that has ever considered taking action against this country has crossed “SMALLPOX” off their list of biological weapons they could use to attack us. Why would the government feel compelled to release this kind of information to the media? Isn’t it better to hide the amount of doses of a drug you’re ordering in order to catch would-be attackers by surprise? That’s like putting a huge blinking sign on your house that says, “Rob Us, We’re Not Home!” whenever you’re out, instead of installing an alarm system. By saying you can treat 200 million infected people, you’re just telling biological terrorists to choose another weapon. So when we need to treat…I don’t know…the plague, we need to order 200 million doses of THAT drug. Why do we put such dumb people in charge of our country? [story]
• Did you guys know there’s a HIDDEN WORLD UNDER THE SEA!? How am I just discovering this RIGHT NOW? According to the Daily Mail online (UK), “Scientists [found a] ‘parallel universe’ of life INSIDE the basalt of the oceanic crust.” And you’re there, and I’m there, only we’re making different decisions and our lives are playing out exactly the opposite of how they are up here on the surface. That’s what a parallel universe is, right? I think I watched a Futurama episode on it once. Basically if you decide to cut your hair here on Earth, in the parallel “Earth” you don’t. So this thing going on under the sea right now must be INSANE to behold. Hopefully the scientists that found it will figure out a way to let us all in soon, because I really want to know what’s going on in Parallel Evan’s life. What’s he doing with his life? Who’s he fucking? Is he even alive? I mean…if I’m alive, wouldn’t Parallel Evan have to be dead? See guys…this is why science is so trippy! [story]
• Hey, let me ask you guys a question. If there was a Swan Fungus app for the iPhone, what would it do. In a perfect world. Other than offer each day’s blog posts in some pretty, easily digestible format. Would it have some kind of Twitter/Facebook integration? Would it…have some kind of unique offering that isn’t available on the blog? I don’t know, what do apps do!? The only ones I have on my iPhone are Words With Friends, A World Of Ice And Fire and Instagram. I don’t really know how technology works. HELP ME!!!!
Artery – Life An Death [MP3]
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