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Raging Pencils by Mike "Over Easy" Stanfill

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Raging Pencils is a minor personal conceit of:

Mike Stanfill, Private Hand
Mike Stanfill, Private Hand
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Today's mystery web comic is:

start rant

Final Instructions

"I do not fear death. I had been dead for billions and billions of years before I was born, and had not suffered the slightest inconvenience from it." - Mark Twain

happy deathI am currently hale and hearty but I do not, when the time comes, wish my carcass dumped into a hole in the ground, however ceremoniously, sealed in steel and concrete with noxious chemicals coursing through the remnants of my veins. It's an unnecessary burden on the Earth and no one will give a rat's patoot about me anyway once the last spade of dirt has fallen, which is as it should be.

So I've stipulated in my will that my remains are to be fed to tigers, and that their poop for the following four days is to be collected and placed in a large paper bag. Said bag will then be placed on my ex-wife's porch, the bag will be set on fire and then the doorbell will be rung. Everything after that is pure gravy.

I'm only joking, of course as you don't need a will for this sort of thing. All you need are a couple of friends with a sense of humor who are just agnostic enough to think you might chase them forever through the halls of Hell if they let you down.

To be slightly serious for a moment this whole, vain business of permanent resting places for these suits of meat we walk around in is completely ludicrous. I realize the ceremony is basically closure for kith and kin but let's be reasonable. We're nothing but a a bag of basic elements that, once abandoned by the vital forces, seeks desperately to return to the Earth.

I've heard of a new process, and I'm not making this up, where they lower the body into liquid nitrogen. Once completely frozen the body is then subjected to high-powered vibrations that pulverize it to a powder. The result is then mixed with corn meal, sewn into a biodegradable bag, and placed under the roots of a sapling as nourishing fertilizer.

Yeah, that's the ticket!

Or, as George Carlin once posited, why not lay the body on a pile of explosives and blow it to smithereens?


Excuse me whilst I amend my will.


end rant

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