Sunday, December 04, 2011


Really and truly, death is nothing to be scared of. Plus, it’s not going to be a hassle to any real degree. Once it happens, it’s not like any activities that were interrupted at the time are going to matter anymore.

Oh sure, sometimes, like a lot of other folks out there, there’s been places in time where I’ve wished that I was dead. The option is always there for self-termination (and as for any of those folks who think that it’s inappropriate to say that someone committed suicide or killed themselves, oh, fuck all those people, because in reality there’s no right or wrong way to describe the final act anyway). In consideration to family and friends who have chosen that particular route of self-induced death, I hold no resentment or even disagreement with their choice. I hold the firm opinion that the individual in question is the only party with the right to choose such an undertaking.

The philosophy that I’ve taken as I get older is along these lines: Y’see, if you really feel suicidal, then the safest and most painless method is to keep living, because life will kill you in a very efficient manner eventually. Still, I would be inclined to suppose that for many of us, in a world where very few of us can realize anything close to true personal happiness, security and fulfillment in life, most of us can see death as an mystery cloaked in our last unrepressed glimmer of optimism, which we will welcome like a ride home from an old friend rolling up to meet us at the curb in the middle of a strange and dangerous neighborhood. In contemplation of all that the trials and tests of life in this existence which confront us every day for nearly the entire duration of the short time that we spend in this plane, how can we ever reason that the next phase of the journey can be any worse?