Junkies and babies, and Wuflu, oh my!
This is: A weekly column consisting of letters to my perspicacious progeny. I write letters to my grandkids and my great-grandkids — the Stickies — to advise them and haunt them after they've become grups and/or I'm deleted.
Warning: This column is rated SSC — Sexy Seasoned Citizens — A Perusal by kids, callowyutes, or grups may result in a debilitating intersectional triggering. Viewing with a tablet or a monitor is highly recommended for maximum enjoyment.
"Health nuts are going to feel stupid someday, lying in hospitals dying of nothing." -Red Foxx
Dear (eventual) Grandstickies and Great-Grandstickies (and Gentlereaders),
In theory, the title of this column, Obituaries, should be world-class clickbait. I'll/It'll probably go insanely viral and rack up millions of hits.
Also, I rendered the word obituaries in bold and used it a second time only 39 (or 40) words in.
{What the h-e-double hockey sticks are you on about now?}
Well, it depends on whether ya count I'll/It'll as one or two words.
{Cute. You know what I'm talking about.}
Well, Dana, I have it on good(?) authority that by repeating the title early on and in bold, using a title that "users" might type in that are oblivious to me and my columns existence; repeating it regularly throughout the column (but not too regularly); writing h-e-double hockey sticks instead of hell to indicate that this is a family-friendly column to appeal to my fellow Neoneoconservatives, my "community," — "going viral" is inevitable.
{What does any of this crap poop have to do with obituaries?}
Nothing.
I'm merely, one, reminding my fellow H. sapiens that the Earth has been invaded by an army of Algorithmites created in virtual laboratories by the minions of the semi (so far) evil tech oligopoly that's taking over the world.
Algorithmites, like rust, never sleep. They're always virtually peering over your shoulder to see what you're up to so as to turn you into data for maximum monetization.
And two, pointing out that there's an entire industry devoted to teaching creators of content how to serve said Algorithmites so as to attract "sticky" eyeballs to your work and maybe make a buck — which is how they try to make a buck. You're much more likely to make pennies but it's like the lottery, ya gotta play to win.
Think of it as a public service announcement. I'm all about serving my community.
{On behalf of the community please accept my sincere thanks. Any chance we can talk about obituaries now?}
Why Certainly.
To a certain segment of my "community," geezers and geezerettes, obituaries are important. For example, I begin my day by consuming a cup of Cafe Bustelo and an amazing amount of information (if I do say so myself) about current events via a highly engineered and continually tweaked system that includes the obituary section of the Hooterville Hornblower.
My purpose in doing so is twofold. First, to verify that I'm not dead, a clueless ghost sitting in front of a keyboard writing non-existent columns for people who can't see/read them (or me).
Second, to check and see if anyone I know that lives on the periphery of my life have passed away peacefully into eternal rest, and no one told me. Not that I would be likely to go to his/her/their funeral or whatever. I try my best not to do funerals or whatevers.
As to why... well, that would take a column's worth of words to explain properly. Suffice it to say it has nothing to do with a fear of death. Also, I pre-encourage anyone/everyone not to attend my Celebration of Life if there is one. If there's a funeral, I'll come back and haunt whoever is responsible.
Anyways, reading about people who went to their heavenly home comes with a major downside. Babies, toddlers, and teenagers die too. The announcement that one has is enough to bring tears to the eyes of even cynical, grumpy old cranks and crankettes.
If someone younger than fifty or so dies suddenly from unknown causes under investigation there's a good chance they succumbed to a drug overdose. Those sorts of obituaries are usually short, light on details, and sadly, appear regularly nowadays.
According to the obituaries, most people don't die, they pass away, which I know from personal experience is not necessarily true, and the exact cause is rarely mentioned.
Many people, particularly people over the age of roughly 70 or so, pass away peacefully while surrounded by their loving family. Well, I hope that's true. Regardless, I suspect that often the wording (like funerals) is more about the living than the dead.
I'm not entirely sure it's appropriate but I want to know the cause of death. Like when someone falls asleep in the Lord after a quietly courageous battle with Stage 4 lung cancer. Since the Wuflu plague, although rapidly/hopefully is fading but is still with us, this bit of knowledge seems particularly pertinent.
For example, I'd like mine to be something like:
It is with a mixture of sadness and rejoicing that our much-loved patriarch has set off on his final road trip to the Great Gig In the Sky. He was instantly vaporized, while traveling as a space tourist, when on the return leg of one of Elon Musk's To the Moon and Back Sightseeing Space Junkets the spaceship mysteriously exploded.
And I am not frightened of dying
Any time will do, I don't mind
Why should I be frightened of dying?
There's no reason for it, you've gotta go sometime
If you can hear this whispering you are dying -Rick Wright
Poppa loves you,
Have an OK day
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