Death Awesomeness

Have you ever thought about how you'll die? My friend Brian and I had this conversation the other night. He said he wanted to die in his sleep, painlessly. I thought about it, and realized that only pussies die in their sleep. I mean really, wouldn't you want your death to make national headlines? Wouldn't you want to leave your legacy in a hail of gunfire, or on I-95 somewhere outside of DC? I think if there was a scale to measure the awesomeness of one's death, I'd prefer to be in the upper echelon. If I had it my way, when I die the Coroner’s Report will look like this:

SUBJECT: Johnny Trashbag
DATE OF DEATH: March 17, 2009
LOCATION: Four Seasons Hotel, Room 412, Los Angeles, CA
CAUSE OF DEATH: cocaine- and hoagie-induced heart attack, possible guacamole asphyxiation
NOTABLES: Subject had one testicle in Cambodian prostitute and one testicle in Nigerian prostitute. Subject’s penis was in a pastrami sandwich. Written on walls of hotel room in ketchup or other tomato-based condiment was “MEAT FUCK!” sixteen times. Thirty-three pounds of food (mostly meat and dairy, though also a picture frame, a bicycle tire, a showerhead and $68,000) found in subject’s impacted bowels. Shaved into subject’s chest hair were words “I’m awesome”.

AWESOMENESS OF DEATH: 9.4 out of 10

Wish me luck!