. . .

Last will and testament

I, Alloni None-Of-Your-Damn-Business Kramer, being of, um, mind and body as sound as ever they were, hereby write yet another in a long string of last wills and testamentses that will hopefully never get used, as I plan to continue in some form or another for as long as life stays interesting. We'll see what happens afterwards. Anyhow.

I may make it a regular feature of mine. Dave Barry has "Ask Mr. Language Person". (Yes, I read Dave Barry. For the articles.) Some other people have a regular Q&A section, or an Ask Mr. Science section, or some other thinly veiled "I can't think of something to write, so I'll go with something I've done before and milk it for more ideas" section. Last will and testament sounds like a good one for me. It's morbid. I can mock my friends and pretend I'm doing so from Beyond the Grave, then wonder why they're getting offended. I can deal with current events, by leaving <insert current Big Mean Badguy here> <insert something not terribly pleasant here>. I can even indulge in wishfulfillment fantasy, by exclaiming about the miracles of the Great Hereafter. It's even pgrated, except for the fact that we're contemplating death. I say, the earlier children start learning about death, the better. Ideally, one child in every class should be slaughtered as an object lesson to the others. Make it the dumbest one, and you simultaneously teach the kids about death, _and_ raise the average iq of the populace. Everyone wins! Add in some ritual mutilation, and you've got the evil cultist vote backing you, give the body to NA for the necrophiliac vote, and you're swept into power. Or, if you want to go tamely, make it lethal injection, and, just as long as they twitch entertainingly, the other kids can watch. Still. Death aside. On to death.

To Nathan I leave the promise that I shall someday return and seek vengeance. You will suffer for eternity, and your screams will be sweet music to my ears. I seem to be big on torment today. I think it's the weather. And the fact that I just missed a phone call here, when the only people who know my work phone number are relatively important people. Need to figure out how to work the voicemail system. And I'm sneezing incessantly. Complain complain complain.

To Jennifer I leave a handcarved, vibrating statue of a nun made out of lunchboxes, brandishing INWO cards in one hand and Settlers of Cataan in the other, with the Book of the Subgenius chained to her waist, a necklace of cds around her neck, and a halo that glows and rotates, easing eyestrain and bringing in better reception. This, the ultimate pinnacle of Jen's interests, is certain to lock her into a semi-comatose state in which she can do nothing but contemplate the statue. It'll be big fun. It'll be Happy Fun Nirvana. And I'm talking attaining oneness with the universe Nirvana, not some cheap grunge suicidal knockoff.

To Jason I leave my body, to do with as he pleases, in memory of that magical night.

To Terri I leave my body, to do with as she pleases, in memory of that magical night.

To Elizabeth I leave my body, to do with as she pleases, in memory of that magical night.

Now fight over it. I recommend a mudwrestling match between Terri and Elizabeth, which slowly grows into something more intimate, and the two of them go off together, while Jason gets left with my dessicated corpse. If things turn out that way, I would like a copy of the video stored in the coffin with my body.

To Garth I leave my own personal scales, and that damn pony you keep bugging me about.

To Chris I leave my copy of the Amish Paradise single by Wierd Al.

To jm I leave the hope that this tragic loss will cause him to write us more often.

To will I leave a headless Pez dispenser. Collect all 7!

To the rest of you, I leave a vague sense of disappointment.