03-31-MMH8
Some may not know this but my dawg not like my dog like my friend but like my friend my dawg, I don’t even like him enough to hate him. The first meaningful, non-racist, thing he ever said to me was "kill yourself." That meant a lot-- he was willing to consider the life I have, had and may have enough to make a judgment on what I should do with it. At first, I wasn’t concerned with his life enough to proactively discuss his fate; my accountant handled that kind of thing for me. I put my energy into finding new and creative ways to tell him how I might hate him if I liked him in the first place...
One fateful day at Juanita Greenburg’s my friend E. vom Matthew Mark Luke John Mary vom L. Esq. II choked on his vegan (synonymous with "I no longer know what good food tastes like") burrito. The rest of his swell friends expressed concern. I saw an opportunity! "Let it happen" I told him as his chokes became more frequent. "Don’t fight it, this is natural" I whispered as he turned purple. "Run to the tunnel-- you’ve completed your journey on this side" when he didn’t have enough air left to cough. He hadn’t been choking as much as he had been laughing.... I failed.
As time went on, I realized that wishing him death only served to contribute to his joke.... and what did that do for the joke (I’m pointing.)? I had to change my tactics. So I wished him a long life. I told him to breathe long, breath hard and breathe STRONG! Where before I might have recommended that he get in his car, drive head-on towards a similar car and let it happen.... I wished longevity. He told me he’d bought me an oxygen tank for my birthday. The next time he pissed me off, I assured him that he’d have a life vest by the end of the week. Tomorrow, I’m signing him up for full coverage health care.
Point being: Death is the easy way out. I pray for it daily. And the Lord answers prayer. Sometimes with a "no."
Also the Lord forgives!!!
I do not. MMH8.
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