When i am dead

When i am dead, i wish to be burned to a crisp, and have my dirty ashes scattered by close friends wherever they please.

It is my wish that whatever organs are desperately, vitally needed by someone else in their direst hour be given to them, free of charge, with the condition that such license to use and/or modify shall be taken up by them also, and that no derivative works shall result in profit. After all, i am an open source, Creative Commons person.

My stuff shall be dispersed however my few close friends see fit, with the understanding that of course my dear love Holly should have pretty well everything to start with, shared mainly with anything my dad & uncle  might want (so you better ask them all real nice if you want my Cure CDs). However, Tony D. is not to have anything until he sobers the hell up. There’s no point in giving anything to a man who’s only going to exchange it for crappy booze or some other escapist bullshit. On the other hand, his wonderful daughter Abby is welcome to just about anything she chooses.

I want my unfinished work to be wrapped up somehow. I don’t care how, so long as i become extremely famous and fabulously wealthy after death. Just don’t screw it up like you do everything else. This is Important Shit.

A grave marker will be permitted if anyone wants to bury my ashes, as long as the epitaph is funny as hell. My suggestions:

  • “I probably shouldn’t have done that.”
  • “Whew! Good thing that’s over.”
  • “Oops!”
  • “Not here, and not there either.”
  • “Thankfully gone, decidedly forgotten.”

If you have something better, go for it.

No serious religion shall stake a claim on any part of my death, including but not limited to any services performed to mark my exit. No rites or stupid ceremonies are to be performed, with the lone exception being that my homies will be permitted to spill some on the curb for me. No spiritual messages are to be given, and no priest of any faith shall officiate. It is to be wholly remembered that i was a devout agnostic, who leaned heavily toward atheism. Anyone caught claiming that i somehow had a soul that lived on after death shall be haunted by my fictitious ghost forever, or until they come to the conclusion that i am not haunting them at all, whichever comes first. I lived through enough horse shit; i don’t need to deal with more of it once i am dead and gone forever. My passing should be viewed as permanent. There is to be no prayer of any kind, except in jest. Silent meditation is permitted, but please: no god shit, and no afterlife crap.

Two religions which are permitted practices and/or short rites are the Church of the SubGenius and the P.O.E.E. (disciples of Eris, goddess of confusion – i think), and they should mock the whole goddamn thing, if they even bother to show up. I also do not mind Buddhism all that much.

No flowers, please. Take your money and donate it to a non-religious charity that does work with AIDS patients or research, breast cancer (again, patients or research), homelessness, runaways, asthma, the environment, civil and/or human rights, putting an end to consumerism, humanitarian efforts, nuclear disarmament, or anything related to promoting atheism or agnosticism or the like.

On the other hand, any services performed to mark my escape from this terrible veil of lies should have a darkly humorous bent, and anyone eulogizing me must include at least one tasteless joke at my expense, or (more preferably) the expense of others. Weirdness should be encouraged at any cost. Attempts should be made at gallows humor. Thou shalt have joy, and laughter, damn it. Death is nothing serious. Be wholly glad i am gone!

Space Void!

Great. Just great. Now there’s a hole in the universe.

WWII is so rife with ironies great and bad

i was reading about the new Bryan Singer movie about the July 20 Plot against Hitler, and i found this out: a November 1943 allied bombing destroyed a truckload of new winter uniforms which were to be personally inspected by Hitler. Axel von dem Bussche was to have demonstrated them for Hitler, with two live grenades in the pockets for the purpose of a suicide-bomb assassination, on the very next day.

Oops!

Today Our Ceiling Fell In

So today, Holly goes “you should take a lookit this ceiling in here” and i knew it was gonna be something bad. There’s been an open seam running parallel to the wall right above the sofa, underneath the upstairs bedroom closet. This afternoon, it had suddenly open and torn itself roughly perpendicular, in an ‘L’ shape. I immediately called our landslumlord (the guy who refused to fix the downstairs electrical tangle-box, and who doesn’t seem to care much that people who wear sandals over here get their feet cut open because the front door has an entire pane of glass completely shattered and glass is always falling out of it all over everywhere; it’s a good thing Speck hasn’t eaten any – yet), and left a message that he better get someone over here soon, because it’s GOING to fall in.

Why is it that these things always, always, always happen directly above the sofa?

Later that day…

Holly and i go out for supplies. We pull back in to see a van in the driveway. Then, a white-haired figure coming out of our house. It’s our landslumlord. I ask what brings him over, wondering if he got my message, but also wondering just what the hell he was doing in our place. He’s coughing his lungs out and looks bad. He’s also dumping god knows what into the neighbor’s trash can. He tells us that the ceiling had fallen out. We’re like ZOMG WTFH!?!! and he’s telling us that yes, it actually did fall. He tells us to open as many windows as we can, that someone would be out to fix it tomorrow (today now), and hightails it out of there.

So we’re like ZOMFG WTF! and we open the door to see… pure, pure white. A thick powdery haze is everywhere! We’re breathing plaster.

Everything in the downstairs floor was covered in white powder. Everything. The worst, of course, was in the living room, where my PC and the laptop were. And the furniture, and the TV, etc.

We cleaned up as much as we could, and let it air out (none of the windows open, or the ones that do don’t have screens, so we open the doors and i prop a box fan on a chair and point two more to it, directing the coke-like haze to leave at once. It’s approximately breathable again.

Incidentally, we’re pretty sure that it hadn’t crashed down before he arrived. Holly has a giant teddy bear that we keep in a chair. When we got in, the bear was on the floor and wasn’t nearly as dusted up as the chair it had been propped up on. We think he was fucking around with the ceiling and it crashed in on top of him.

Here’s what we have now. I can’t find our Olympus, so these were taken with the laptop’s webcam. Click on the pictures for a larger view.

Approximately what we saw when we arrived on the scene (haze added in GIMP 2.0):
ceiling, with an approximation of the powdery haze we had to breathe (done in GIMP)

And here’s what it looks like right now:
ceiling, with giant hole

Close-up:
ceiling, closeup

Incidentally, a black PS2 controller:
detail of PS2 controller... that's a BLACK controller

The black shop-vac that he left for us:
the shop-vac that he left for us... also formerly black in color

How am i feeling? I HAS RILLY ANGRY!1!!!
a little bit upset

well, there goes that.

I haven’t talked to him yet, but i’m all but certain that my landlord just sold the house that we’re living in. The one we just moved into. The one we had our hearts set on buying. What this really means is anybody’s guess.

See, he just showed the place last week. And just today, the listing i had bookmarked is gone; in its place, a dialogue box pops up advising that it’s been “taken off the market.”

We’ll see. I really, really, really don’t want to move all over again.