Dead like Kings

When I die, my remaining family/next of kin will receive a significant amount of cash thanks to my insurance plan. Well, I hope they get to read this because I’d like to say: don’t waste it on my funeral. Seriously.

There is no need to spend money on me once I’m dead. Give my body to science, some medical university who can make use of my remains (if they remain usable), or just let the hospital dispose of me. There’s no need for a ceremony. There’s no need to waste money on coffins, flowers, processions, or even an incinerator for a glorious cremation. Trust me, it’s a waste of money. I would rather you take the money up to Luna Bar and toss it off the roof. At least that will be a sight worth capturing on camera.

Do you think that ant you squashed on the way to the toilet this morning gives a shit if you bury it in the grass outside or wash it off in your sink? No. And neither will I. When I’m dead, I no longer know, appreciate or even care about what you do for me. I don’t know for sure, but I’m pretty sure that’s the case.

If you inherit my money, spend it on hookers and blackjack, or cigarettes and alcohol or whatever vices you have. Spend it on a new car or a new house. Invest it in gold. Use it to run a political campaign. Buy a shit load of encyclopaedias just because you can. Buy an iPhone, and iPad and an iMac. I don’t give a shit. But whatever you do, don’t waste it on me. It will be pointless. Just like this blog post.