Is Death the Answer?

Is Death the Answer?

Now, before you go running to call the police or the men in white hear me out on this one.

This morning I went to 7-11 to get coffee.

It’s one of the brighter moments of my day, taking the 4 minute walk across the street, saying hello to the man behind the counter, pouring my coffee with just the right mix of half and half, sugar free vanilla syrup and two sweet and lows.

When I get to the counter, the guy always greets me and asks me if I want some cigarettes and if I say yes, he goes straight for my brand.

It’s almost like Mayberry.

Today though, the guy behind the counter asked me, “how are you this morning?”

Instinctively I gave the cliche answer, “well, it’s another morning and I’m alive.”

He smiled and agreed.

As I walked home, I began to think.

That was the most retarded answer I could ever have given.

Why is it good to be alive?

I am confused.

Let’s see what my day is going to be like.

I am going to go home, turn on the news, take my diabetes and heart burn pills, drink my coffee, go online and write for Fat Jewish Guy and Daily Tush, take my dog for a walk, enjoy the sunshine, maybe go to lunch, come back home, work some more, then Shorty will get home, we will eat dinner, then watch some stupid TV show (American Idol, Privileged, 90210, Desperate Housewives), then maybe go out for some dessert, She will go to sleep and I will keep working, finally I will go to sleep, wake up and then get coffee.

Even on the weekends what happens?

Wake up, do something, eat, do something, eat, do something, (maybe a movie, a show, Vegas, Palm Springs).

Now, do not get me wrong, I am not complaining doing these things are pretty damn fun and there are people who can’t do even a third of what I do.

But take this example.

My mother thinks that my grandfather came back as a White Butterfly.

First of all a “White Butterfly” is a moth.

Regardless, Let’s look at their life for a second.

They wake up, start flying, eat some nectar, rest on a tree, fly some more, eat some more nectar, fly, rest and have people like my mother go, “Ohhh look a white butterfly!”

Who’s life seems better?

I tried to live like that and I got diabetes.

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