LIVING WILL

I, _________________________ (fill in the blank),

being of sound mind and body, do not wish to be kept alive indefinitely by artificial means.

Under no circumstances should my fate be put in the hands of peckerwood politicians who couldn't pass ninth-grade biology if their lives depended on it. This goes especially for Tom DeLay, who cut off life support for his own vegetative-state father but characterizes other people's private and well-reasoned decisions to do the same as murderous and evil.

If a reasonable amount of time passes and I fail to sit up and ask for a cold beer or a "Spring Water", it should be presumed that I won't ever get better. When such a determination is reached, I hereby instruct my spouse, children and attending physicians to pull the plug, reel in the tubes and call it a day.

Under no circumstances shall the members of the Legislature enact a special law to keep me on life-support machinery. It is my wish that these boneheads mind their own damn business, and pay attention instead to the health, education and future of the millions of Americans who aren't in a permanent coma.

Under no circumstances shall any politicians butt into this case. I don't care how many fundamentalist votes they're trying to scrounge for their run for the presidency in 2008; it is my wish that they play politics with someone else's life and leave me alone to die in peace.

I couldn't care less if a hundred religious zealots send e-mails to legislators in which they pretend to care about me. I don't know these people, and I certainly haven't authorized them to crusade on my behalf. They should mind their own business, too.

If any of my family goes against my wishes and turns my case into a political cause, I hereby promise to come back from the grave and make his or her existence a living hell.


Signature: ____________________________________


Witness: ______________________________________


Date:__________________________________________

Can't remember if I'd posted this before...

...but I liked it too much not to type it up. Awhile ago, I was subscribed to the Nobilis mailing list - a list for a game where you play the embodiment of some fundamental concept of reality. After reading through the rulebook, a concept started nagging at me until I wrote this down:

"You can hear the story in any of a thousand bars where musicians gather to drink. Take your guitar to the crossroads at midnight, and the Man will be there. He'll ask if he can play a few licks, and if you let him, after he's done you can play like nobody has before. You've probably heard of how Robert Johnson, Stevie Ray Vaughn, any number of people, have met the Man at Midnight, and how they made it big afterward.

"Of course, they usually mention that there's a price. Almost everybody that's met the Man has died young or tragic in some way. But what's a few years of mortal life compared to immortal fame, hey?

"They just don't tell you that's not the only price you might pay. If you're not lucky enough, when the Man dies, you take his place. And the price of becoming the Man is that you always were the Man. All traces of your life before becoming the Man are gone, and forgotten, even to you. All you know is that you used to be somebody.

"I miss knowing what my songs used to be."

From the thought journal of the Man at Midnight, Baron of the Crossroads (former name lost)

As a followup...

One of the other posters to that list made a series of wallpapers based on concepts people suggested. I was very gratified to have mine chosen for inclusion, and even moreso when I saw what he did with it. Here's the one I inspired:

http://planeta.terra.com.br/arte/hiperborea/crossroads-1024.jpg