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38 eight years ago I stole my mother inlaws daughter, and yes I'm still paying for it with no time off for good behavior.
But, there's gotta be some reason she sticks around- and it isn't for the pretty face,, trust me:s0108:

That's a given Bro.... lol
Us phone jocks ain't as pretty as all those desk Jockie's out there but we got what it takes to keep the ladies ringing.;)
:eek::eek::eek::p:D
 
Author Clive Cussler once wrote that he hoped that his last moments on earth would find him in a hospital bed with a beautiful buxom blonde nurse bending over him holding a phone and whispering in his ear "Mr. Cussler, it's your accountant and he says you're broke".
 
Author Clive Cussler once wrote that he hoped that his last moments on earth would find him in a hospital bed with a beautiful buxom blonde nurse bending over him holding a phone and whispering in his ear "Mr. Cussler, it's your accountant and he says you're broke".
Not bad, but I still think nailing the SO one last time or knocking up the hospice-nurse (with an endowment from the estate for support) would still be a better last memory to pass into the hereafter with. :)
 
2 things give me pause here.

1st) That Salmonriverjohn, who recently posted to this thread 3 posts up, recently passed away from a heart attack. The dude was fine company on these boards, and I wish I'd met him. Sounded like a superb individual.

2nd) That he was much younger than me. (shakes head)

Anyway, I told my brother what I wanted and that's the way it will be. Think something like Woodrow hauling Call to Texas except in todays world without asking anyone's permission and thus breaking the law. He'll do the right thing. Regardless, if he chooses to flush me down the toilet, nothing I really can do about it or would even care about. It's really not about those who pass but about those who remain.
 
When I was little, my parakeet died. I put it in a box and buried it in the backyard. A few weeks later when I was missing it, I dug it up. When I opened the box and saw the remains of the bird covered in worms I freaked out. I decided right then that no way was I going to be buried in the ground when I died.
 
We have gotten so entrenched in being ruled and brow beaten, it's in our very veins and it doesn't appear till we have an abstract idea or thought. I refuse to be processed as the STATE wants or anyone else. I should be able to ask for my last wishes be honored and the state, feds, officials be damned. I am free, born free, and will stay free. Any thoughts on this or your own wishes?

I, myself, also have plans for when I am dead on how I want my body to be processed. Basically, I want my corpse to be used as fertilizer for the trees, plants, flowers. I would hope to be buried in a grave deep enough so I am not consumed by animals, but not so deep that my corpse cannot nourish the nature around me.

My best advice is to not spend your final days in a hospital, but instead to go out in a remote place in the wilderness to spend your final days. You will lose some benefits, but I have seen many people die in hospitals and I tell you the slow, painful way they extend life is not always beneficial. If you are going to die, might as well just die rather than having a prolonged life in agony, dosed up on synthetic opiates and being fed through a tube.

Basically, if it is between a hospice or a beautiful meadow in a remote mountainside I will pick the latter if I have the ability.


P.S. This whole thread has reminded me of one of my favorite poems by the rather morbid poet, Thomas Lovell Beddoes:
The Phantom Wooer by Thomas Lovell Beddoes said:
A ghost, that loved a lady fair,
Ever in the starry air
Of midnight at her pillow stood;
And, with a sweetness skies above
The luring words of human love,
Her soul the phantom wooed.

Sweet and sweet is their poisoned note,
The little snakes of silver throat,
In mossy skulls that nest and lie,
Ever singing, "Die, oh! die."

Young soul put off your flesh, and come
With me into the quiet tomb,
Our bed is lovely, dark and sweet;
The earth will swing us, as she goes,
Beneath our coverlid of snows,

And the warm leaden sheet.
Dear and dear is their poisoned note,
The little snakes of silver throat,
In mossy skulls that nest and lie,
Ever singing, "Die, oh! die."
 
I think I would like to be buried next to my four legged friends. I would rather like to spend eternity with those I care about verses people i don't know.
 
I have the same notion about my death, well, except the burning. I want to be buried with some of my treasures someplace with a tree and small headstone as a marker.
Hopefully I'll be found thousands of years later and examined by some archeologist.

I also hope there will still be forests by the time I die.
 

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