Dear Facebook Diary,

 

Just the other day during one of my classes, I discussed methods of suicide with some of my fellow classmates. This would be a strange topic of discussion for most people but I consider it to be a normal conversation. I revealed the overly elaborate way in which I would off myself if I were to ever commit suicide and the reaction from most people is that they laugh, but I am completely serious.

 

Here is how I would commit suicide: First I would purchase a fifteen-foot strand of either piano string or cheese wire. Then I would fashion a noose with the string or wire.  I would scout out a tall bridge for me to jump off of and then climb to the tallest point; it would need to be elevated at least fifty feet above the ground. I would tie the end of the wire without the noose to the bridge. Then I would place the noose around my neck and tighten it. And here is the most important detail, I would put super glue on both of my hands and stick them to the sides of my head. Finally, I would jump off of the bridge, the wire would cut my head clean off, and my head would still be held between my super glued hands. This would create the appearance of me having killed myself by pulling my own head off once my body was discovered on the ground below. Of course the wire noose on the bridge would eventually be found and my heedlessness would be explained, but the first people to discover my body would be absolutely amazed by the sight of a man that had such hate for life that it enraged him to the point of removing his own head with his bare hands. I have no thoughts of suicide or inflicting any harm on myself but in the unlikely scenario in which I have been framed for rape and genocide, lost every cent of my money, had all of my belongings stolen, been diagnosed with full blown AIDS, and had my dog die all in the same day… this is how I would kill myself.

 

Suicide is not funny but that isn’t the reason why I brought it up. And if I ever were diagnosed with AIDS then the first thing that I would do is hunt down Magic Johnson and eat him because he obviously IS the cure for AIDS. What I am talking about is how to die in an awesome way. You see, for various reasons I have what is called a “living will”. While I was filling out this document called a “living will”, I came upon the question asking that if all probability of me regaining consciousness were lost, would I allow someone to remove life support and allow me to die. I marked the box next to the answer stating “sure, why not?” but I found it ridiculous that this was my only option. It seems so uninspired that I must march through life in pursuit of money to purchase shit that I don’t even need and then after decades of monotonous and meaningless work I should die by simply being unplugged. Average American men must suffer a completely unspectacular life only to finish it all off with an even more unspectacular death, aka being unplugged.

 

I would much rather put something much more awesome into my living will but apparently that is illegal. If I am a vegetable on life support with no chances of waking up and I have the mental power of a fucking peanut, then why can’t I be killed in a more dignified and exciting way? I want my surviving friends to use some of my money to buy a pickup truck, place me in my deathbed into the back of the truck, hire some crazy high school kids to drive the truck towards a tornado, and then they would jump out just before the tornado sucked the truck and I up into it. Then they would find my body mangled and hanging in a tree five miles away rather than unplugging me and waiting for me to stop breathing. It would be a much more awesome death. I want to start a business in which men pay me to keep a contract with them so that if they should ever be in a permanently vegetative state, my company will ensure that they be killed in the coolest way possible. They will pay a monthly or annual fee and the more they pay the more badass their death will be.

 

I already have several ideas for hardcore ways for how I would prefer to bite the big one rather than dying in a hospital bed. I could have someone inject me with a lethal dose of heroin using a needle infected with every STD known to man and then leave my body in an alley in St. Louis or some other random nightmare of a city. Someone could place my limp body on a bench press, put 600 pounds on the bar, and then drop the bar on my face to crush my head. Then next to the bench would be a little workout journal showing that I was performing my eighth set of twenty reps with 600 pounds when I apparently lost my grip and dropped it on my face. Or somebody could take me to the zoo, stuff a sardine sandwich in my mouth, and then drop me into a pit of hungry rampaging elephant seals. There are millions of ways that I would rather die that are better than fading away as an un-pluggable pussy in a bed.

 

And for an extra fee, men could keep a private record with my company showing where all of their porn and any other weird shit is hidden in their house or on their computer or wherever. Then, as soon as we found out that the client wasn’t going to survive we would send someone to erase all of their porn and private stuff so family members wouldn’t find it after they died and realize what a pervert they were. We could even plant things into their computers and houses for family members to find too. We could hide guns with silencers and a hit list under their bed to make family members believe that they were a hitman for the mafia. For a very expensive fee we could fly them to the Middle East and make it look as if they were killed during a secret CIA mission. And of course we would completely destroy all records of the client’s deal with us after they were deceased to ensure that their cause of death remained a legend for eternity.

 

That’s sort of what sucks about modern life and creating a living will. Instead of dying on the battlefield we must plan on dying in a hospital or a nursing home. It’s a means of cementing the internal belief that we will never lead a life so awesome that we’ll parish in the grandest of ways. We must live robotic money chasing lives and once we have reached the end of the race we are simply unplugged. What a bummer.