It's
a safe assumption that we each know at least three people who
have been clinically dead for x minutes, right? Y'know,
intimately? In the um.. 'biblical sense', eh, eh? ("In the
beginning was the word, and the word was 'I've been clinically
dead four times'. Ok, I know it's six words, but I'm your god.
Who the fuck are you to argue with me? Bitch.") We've all
fucked dead dudes or chicks, right? Not necessarily while they're
dead, and not necessarily ones who have stayed dead. We're all on
the same wavelength here, right? We're dealing with people who
die and come back to life (Jesus H. Christ!) Now, I'm no doctor,
as I keep trying to tell you, but will you listen? Will you
bollocks! I'm no doctor, I'm even less of a god, deity, fate,
karma, evolution, random series of events, or whatever your
crappy explanation is, but but butty but but, to me, death
involves a certain amount of not coming back from the dead. To
me, and that's just me, I'm not gonna shit on anyone's religion,
beliefs, vague ideas, cos that's too fucking easy, whoever you
are and whatever you believe, including me. Welcome to the
evolved world of dogma. Anyway, any chance of any fully
formulated thoughts and sentences? Is there bollocks! To me, if
you come back from the dead, you're not dead. Reincarnation,
resurrection, 'everlasting life', heaven, hell, "Just
something. Please. Anything. I don't want to be dead yet. I need
something to cling to". All your bits after death either
don't exist, or you didn't die. Call it just my own pedantic
semanticism, based, more likely than not, on my own definitions,
rather than assumed definitions by the rest of so-called society,
but that's just the way I feel. And I'm not gonna go to jail for
yewwwww or anybody.
Anyway,
that's all too fucking deep and offensive to be dealing with
while listening to Britney Spears. (Did I ever tell you I like
her now? I still hate her jiggly little whore image, but I like
the music. If that makes me gay, then so be it, but I cannot
repress my feelings any more). What I wanted to talk about,
instead of all that crappy meaning of life stuff, was these
fucking retards who die eight times each. "Oh yeah man, I've
been clinically dead for a grand total of forty-three
minutes." And why don't you share with the nice folks what
that means. "Well, it means that my heart stopped, and no
oxygen was getting to my brain." That's a big fucking
surprise. "But what you absolutely have to do is get right
back on the motorbike/ in the cannon/ under the water/ etc etc,
including something funny, and do it again. That second time was
when I came closest to actually dying, and not coming back, man.
I had to wait a couple of weeks before doing it again because I
couldn't move my eyeballs without the risk of paralysis, but once
that passed, I got straight back on/ in/ under/ over/ through/
above/ funny."
Never
will you find someone who learnt their lesson. Fucking retards.
People who die either do it once, stay dead, and stop moaning
about it, or they do it over and over and want a fucking medal,
as well as the best medical attention, please, I'm in a lot of
pain, please help me, don't leave me lying here bleeding out of
my shattered body. Call me a fucking retard, (please. But DCMS),
but if I were to be stupid enough to engage in some activity that
had an adequate chance of rendering me without a heartbeat and
oxygen to my brain, and then I actually hit that oh so long 10 to
1 shot, I'd give it up and take up reading Kikkergars, rocking
out to songs about Joe DiMaggio buggering off, opening sweet
smelling envelopes with money inside (how come I only know one
person who will send me money for no reason? Why don't I hang
around with a better class of people?) and sucking mud and
insects out of hosepipes. It's actually quite a nice life, but it
doesn't impress lonely women in bars. ...Perhaps I should get
some scars... (That last bit sounds like I died, but I didn't. If
I'm not dead now, then I didn't die, ok? And just because I went
without oxygen to my brain for fifteen years, and without a
beating heart for longer still, doesn't mean I died. And anyone
who says will have to tangle with me and my hairbrush, ok?!)
Oooh, ending on an irrelevant metaphor; I didn't see that coming.
FASLILVbHST&K