I departed for Uzbekistan on December 14, 2007… and wound up dead. I tried to tell everyone but you all just dismissed me. I apologize to all of you who didn’t believe me for not being convincing enough. We could have had a few better days. But we didn’t because you all suck.

So, I guess this is like a last will and testament. I was planning on taking out a 50 million dollar life insurance policy in case my plane crashes so that I could have the beneficiaries erect a massive golden statue of me over the New York City Harbor. I decided against this because I don’t want anyone to fight over the money and not erect the statue. I’d prefer if no one benefits from my death except for me.

Now as for the disposal of my remains: I’d prefer to be donated to science so that perhaps some college medical student can cut me up and and learn how to prevent plane crashes. However, I’m fairly certain that I will be far too mangled for any institution to accept me. If that should prove to be the case then I want to leave creative control of my corpse to Josh. Should he choose to stuff me, eat me, or burn my rigormortified flesh, it’s up to him; I don’t want to hear anyone bitch and complain about the atrocities being projected towards me. I do, however, fully expect to have a funeral pyre with at least one pound of my flesh while everyone dances and mead celebrates throughout everyones’ veins and the winter solstice. I don’t care.

As far as my belongings: Fight amongst yourselves for my collective garbage. My books would make great kindling for my pyre, along with my art that is flammable. If anyone shows signs of wanting something that has previously been shown interest in, I want that item destroyed with a hammer by the first party that showed said interest. If a hammer doesn’t suffice I welcome anyone in the immediate area to try and destroy it with whatever device deemed necessary. I’m not joking. I’m assuming people would gain a lot of pleasure from destroying the few items that accrued into my life savings.

That is all.

Seeing how I predicted my own death I want to take a stab at predicting a few other things that have been on my mind lately. I would also like to mention that my death brought on Grey hair. Yes, Grey! Knowing your going to die is stressful apparently. Anyway…

Prediction 1: I’m going to die.

Prediction 2: You’re going to die.

Prediction 3: All previous predictions will come true.