Cherish My Memory

Dearest Readers,

It is my solemn duty to inform you that my death is imminent. One day last week, I awoke and found that I had pronounced facial swelling and a high fever. At first, I thought I was coming down with the flu, but when I looked in the mirror I saw otherwise. A small scratch had evolved into a sizable head wound and both eyes were swollen nearly shut. I hadn't seen my body react to anything like that since the Dirty Needle Dodgeball Incident of '98. Thus, I proceeded directly to the closest ER at high speed. Upon arrival, they determined that I had a staph infection. I'll spare you the details of how these things are dealt with, but let it suffice to say that it was only somewhat more pleasant than a Gerbilectomy. I found the following article in an AP article on Yahoo! later in the week:

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - A nasty staph germ circulating in and out of hospitals produces a poison that can kill pneumonia patients within 72 hours, researchers said on Thursday...

Although I don't actually have the pneumonia part and the wound appears to be healing, I know that God won't resist such an opportunity. Thus, I have compiled my Last Will and Testament:

To Common Wombat: I leave my most trusted household contrivance - my commode. Rest assured that this is one of the finest pieces of machinery that I've ever known. It has carried me through many dark and troubled times. I feel that this bequest is analogous to placing a Stradivarius in the hands a virtuoso. I have no doubt that you will be able to use it to.....Wait, I really don't want to know what you're going to do with it. Really.


To Karla: I bequeath my antibiotic collection. Since most medical journals refer to your nether regions as the "viral Disneyland," I'm certain that they will come in handy. Moreover, I've included my Pez penicillin dispenser, so that you can discretely consume the massive volumes that it takes to get you through your busy day.

To Dyckerson: I leave you my most precious possession: my crotch. If it brings you with half of the pleasure that it has brought me, you will die a satiated man. With all of the perks and privileges that come with this gift, please don't forget the responsibilities. Speaking of which, if any attorneys contact you about a small herd of illegitimate Haitian children, pretend that you don't speak English. Also, please continue my regimen of loving care. Remember to Turtle Wax it every Wednesday, but no matter how much it begs, do not feed it from the dinner table.



To Kalleigh Hathaway: To you, I leave my job. In life, I didn't have much use for it and I doubt that death will improve upon that. The fact that you have no formal training as an electrical engineer shouldn't impede your success and eventual advancement. Merely use industry jargon like "volts", "amps", and "zappy-thing" often and nobody will be the wiser. Trust me, I've been doing it for years. Additionally, since there is a scant number of attractive women in engineering, you can most likely set fire to the building hourly with no fear of repercussion.

To ACW: I leave you my laxative stockpile. With your known propensity for consuming inedible substances, such as candle wax and soap, I'm sure that you can put them to good use. I was also going to give you the Dongstar, but I fear that you would inevitably find a way to ingest that, too.



To Standing Cheese: Although I haven't agreed with some of your posts, particularly with respect to blogger etiquette, I enjoy your blog nonetheless. You don't care who you offend or how how many "precious" comments an offensive opinion might cost you and you've got to respect that. Thus, I bequeath you my favorite monogrammed T-shirt. Wear it with pride, I certainly did.


To Geisha: I leave my Hewlett Packard 6234A DC Power Supply. This apparatus is capable of delivering 250 milliamps of direct current at 24 volts, which equates to 6000 milliwatts of hoo-haa blasting goodness. Compared to the meager 9 volts provided by your beloved Mr. Battery, this gift is 2.67 times more potent and will never die at an inopportune moment.

To Malnurtured Snay: I leave you my Lego collection and all of my first edition, autographed Battlestar Gallactica DVDs.

OK, maybe I don't really have any of that stuff, but if I did and was actually dying (honestly, I plan to live forever), they would be yours.

To Cham Green: It is difficult to express the depth of my disappointment of not being able to fulfill my childhood dream of making sweet, sweet, Monkeylove to you on the pitcher's mound of Camden Yards on Opening Day. As a mechanism of consolation, I leave you my Winnie the Pooh sheets. Please honor my memory by using them whenever you're entertaining your teeming Hispanic he-harem.


Sadly, I must close in order to prepare my Final Arrangements. I've requested cremation and that the subsequent ashes be used as cut in a kilo of pure cocaine that is to be distributed in selected day care centers to commemorate TFG Day. In lieu of flowers, please send copious donations, in one dollar bills, to Our Lady of the Happy Ending, 7541 Pulaski Hwy, Baltimore, MD, 21237.