Death Sits Down for A Game Plan

I’m going to violate cyberspace noise control, and aim an extreme decibel keystroke monologue at a group of people in society who I’m going to rename as architectures of made from scratch Kodak moments.   You probably had a look like Ronald McDonald did when the Furby doll came into existence after you read that, but that reclassification is new street talk lingo in blogosphere for “Planning.”  I just kinda wanted to put a little footmark on this passage, but apparently it looked more like a footprint left by a cheap pair of moon boots. 

I sat and pondered this ideology because basically I had no life, and I was desperate for a blog entry—desperation much like Toyota when they recently came out with the $1.25/mo for 36 months lease.  Not only do these non medicated O.C.D. people reinvent the wheel, but they give it bling, pimp feva, and a lamentation for the vehicle to be left on blocks due to provocative eye candy appeal.  Planning that is taken to the next level.  I mean, these people are not only glamorous, they’re so glamorous they fricken piss glitter. 

But one conception gets shoved in the corner, passed over, and dumped out as if it were a Cash for Clunker automobile.  People plan showers, birthday parties, anniversary gatherings, weddings…etc. etc, but where is the Grim Reaper in all of this? Does he not get a say of the time? A penciled rehearsal of what would occur if you were to see him through your peep hole is almost inevitable. Perhaps, it could be seen by some as being self-centered and or morbid. Would it be a mating call to the Pale Angel of Death if one were to script what they would like assembled after their passing? A little fling with Daddy Deceasor? Who cares!  Fischer Price toyed with the affections of Playskool and look what happened to them.  Bow Wow Chicka Wowow!  Just because you buy life insurance does not mean you are going to drop dead after you sign the contract. So…  If you’re late with a little style and class, you could have it imperative that you enter the front of the church at least 2-5 minutes late.  I’m sure that could get a few tears turned in to cackles. Maybe drama follows you like a wannabe soap opera star; your casket could roll in stride, diva-like, to Amazing Grace played to bagpipes, or the lyrics, “I-N-D-E-P-E-N-D-E-N-T  Do you know what that means...” Possibly, orchestrate a photo slide show in sync to Green Day’s “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)”.  Go ahead.  I’ll keep it on the down low. 

You get the point.  This would be the last time people are going to see you, and pay their respects. It’s bad enough you are dead; might as well time allot it to YOUR watch and format it to fit YOUR screen.   A little THX sound effects can’t hurt the situation. In fact, see if you can get Warner Bros. to film the scene while you’re at it! This could finally be the block buster hit that leaves those Twilight sequels in the dust—directed and executively produced by you.  Too bad you would be busy packing, getting a boarding pass to pushin’ up daisies and unable to see it first-hand though.