The other day, as a break from agonizing about the failure of the subprime housing market, I started thinking about places I would want my ashes scattered. I think we've all thought about this at one point in time. Because I am perfectly normal.
Anyway, at first I started thinking about awesome locations for my ashen reception, but then it occurred to me that before I am cremated, I'll probably be dead. So really, what the hell would I care where my ashes went? Certainly, if I could feel or know anything about the matter I'd probably be more inclined to care about what my ash tossers would have to go through to get the job done. I mean, what the hell, right? I'm dead. Why not work my ash flinging into some kind of elaborate and totally awesome practical joke? Maybe one that ends with a monkey smoking a cigarette. That's always fun. Before that though, my ash toters would have to go through some kind of crazy scare that makes them shit themselves, like a fake kidnapping at gunpoint. That's definitely a winner.
And oddly enough, that line of thought got to me to thinking: can you go to hell for paying to have people killed after you, yourself that is, have died? After all, there might be some people I'd wanta see right away if I thought I might go to hell regardless. You never know what the future can bring and all that.
And for some reason, that got me thinking about the civil legal system in this country. Could my estate be seized if I was posthumously convicted of a murder? I would think so. In fact, I could hardly see any reason to prosecute a dead guy if that wasn't the case.
And that got me thinking about Law and Order, and why it's on so damn much.
After I think about Law and Order, I typically spend a few seconds thinking about Ice-T's career. I don't even want to know why I do this. But it happens.
And, after all that thinking, I decided that I would want my ashes spread all over the grounds of a cemetery.
You know, just so I could be a wiseass one last time.