Lexicon of Stupidity

You are going to die. You are dieing right now. Every cell division in your body brings you one step closer to the end of your genetically possible lifetime. Was this shocking to you? If it was, you are not alone.

For some reason the TV, my newspaper, government agencies and their neophytes have been trying to convince me that I want to live forever and that I should spend my whole life aimed at that goal. I thought that this was an odd idea seeing as I have come to the profound realization that everything dies. I don’t like it, but pretending won’t really change it and spending my whole life vying for a completely impossible goal doesn’t sound like a good idea either.

That leaves me in an awkward place when I am approached by the flavor of the month life extending strategy. It always seems to follow this pattern. Give up previously benign and enjoyable activity forever and you may possibly get a mystery box full of time added to the end of your life if the current research is correct and not the research from twenty years ago which indicates the opposite, but really what did they know they were old and old things are always bad. It sounds like a sales pitch. “Taxes titles options extra, some restrictions may apply.”

It’s not that I am a hedonist either. If you eat the whole pig you are going to puke. And I don’t want my brief stay on this rock to be plagued by physical misery. I just don’t want to have to get out the Healthfood Desk Reference every time I eat. I also don’t want to feel like I’m some sort of freak because I want a Coke with my pizza.

The really crappy part is I know that I’m jaded and I am pretty sure that somewhere, deep beneath the mountain of crap, there are some actual good ideas. Nuggets in the pile. I just don’t have the tools nor the inclination to go diving in.