Death

This is one of my favorite sections of Napalm & Silly Putty by George Carlin. It has to do with, well, death.

"Dying to Stay Alive
You're all going to die. I hate to remind you, but it is on your schedule. It probably won't happen when you'd like; generally, it's an inconvenience. For instance, you might have your stamp collection spread out on the dining room table.
     [Ominous music]
     "Now?"
     "Now."
     "May I at least put away my commemoratives?"
     "No."
     Inconvenient.
     Nobody wants to die. Nobody. Well, maybe Evel Knievel, but most other people don't like the idea. It doesn't seem like an enjoyable thing. People figure if being sick is no fun, dying must really be a bother. After all, part of the pleasure of being alive is the knowledge that you're not dead yet.
     And when you get right down to it, people don't mind being dead, it's getting dead that bothers them. No one wants to get dead. But we're all gonna do it. Death is one of the few things that are truly democratic-- everybody gets it once. But only once. That's what makes us nervous. No rehearsals.

Ticket to Nowhere
And actually, I think people should look forward to death. After all, it's our next big adventure. At last we're going to find out where we go. Isn't that what we've all been wondering? Where we go?
     "Where do we go?"
     "I don't know."
     "We must go somewhere."
     "True."
     "Phil says he knows."
     "I know he does. But take my word, Phil doesn't know."
     Where do we go? Maybe it's nowhere; that would be interesting. On the one hand, you'd be nowhere, but on the other hand, you wouldn't know it. So at least you'd have something to think about. Or not.
     Personally, I think we go wherever we think we're going to go. What you think is what you get. Have you ever heard one of those guys who says, "Don't even bother prayin' for me, I'm goin' straight to hell; I'm goin' to hell to be with all my friends"? Well, he is. He's going to hell, and he'll be with all his friends. What you think is what you get. If you keep saying you're going to heaven, chances are you'll get there. But don't look for any of your friends.
     In my own case, I expect I'll be going to a public toilet in Honduras. And by the way, should you be interested, I can tell you on good authority that when Monty Hall dies he will be spending a lot of time behind door number three.

Death: The Show

Die Big

     My feeling is that as long as you're going to die, you should go out with a bang. Make a statement. Don't just "pass away." Die!
     "Arnie passed away."
     "He did?"
     "Yes. Quietly, in a chair."
     "I didn't know."
     "Well, that's the idea; no one knows."
     "True. On the other hand, they say Jim died."
     "Oh, yes, Jim died! He died, and now he's dead! He had a thirty-minute seizure in a hotel, danced across the lobby, and wound up in a fountain, twitching uncontrollably. Bell hops were actually applauding."
     "God bless him, he went out big."
     I say go out big, folks; it's your last chance to make a statement. Before you go, give 'em a show; entertain those you leave behind.

Two-Minute Warning

     Now, you might be wondering why I would even suggest that someone can affect the manner and style of his death. Well, it's because of a mysterious and little-known stage of dying, the two-minute warning. Most people are not aware of it, but it does exist. Just as in football, two minutes before you die you receive an audible warning: "Two minutes! Get your shit together!" And the reason most people don't know about it is because the only ones who hear it are dead two minutes later. They never get a chance to tell us.
     But such a warning does exist, and I suggest when it comes, you use your two minutes to entertain and go out big. If nothing else, deliver a two-minute speech. Pick a subject you feel passionate about, and just start talking. Begin low-key, but, with mounting passion, build to a rousing climax. Finally, in the last few seconds, scream at those around you, "If these words are not the truth, may God strike me dead!" He will. Then simply slump forward and fall to the floor. Believe me, from that moment on, people will pay more attention to you.
     Of course, such a speech is not your only option; circumstances may permit a more spectacular exit. Perhaps you'll get your two-minute warning during an aerobics class. If so, volunteer for something strenuous. Grab three sets of dumbells, strap on a lot of leg weights, and start running on the treadmill at a really steep grade. When they tell you to stop, turn the treadmill up to 20 miles an hour and start leaping in the air. Tell them it's a new exercise called the Hindu Death Leap. Then collapse on the treadmill, allowing it to fling you backward into the mirrored wall, breaking the mirror and showering everyone with small pieces of glass. I guarantee the police will search your locker carefully.

"Heal This!"

     Or maybe you'll be lucky enough to receive your two-minute warning while attending Christian faith-healing services. This is a wonderful opportunity to give religion a bad name. After the sermon, when they ask for those to come forward who "need a miracle", stand up and get in line with the cripples. Try to time things just right. Cut into line if you have to. Then, with barely ten seconds left, kneel in front of the preacher. He will place his hands on you, shout, "Heal!" and you will croak at his feet. Not quite a miracle, but certainly an attention-getter. And the nice thing is they'll blame it on the preacher:

THOUSANDS LOOK ON AS
EVANGELIST SLAYS WORSHIPER.
POLICE STUDY VIDEOTAPE.

Posthumous Fun

     But you needn't be satisfied with merely an impressive death scene. You can actually take it a bit further, past the moment of death, by preprogramming some posthumous reflexes into your brain. Remember, the central nervous system runs on electricity, and dying takes place in stages. So, not all of your electrical energy is fully discharged at the time you are pronounced dead; some of it remains stored. Morgue and funeral workers report that corpses often spasm and twitch as much as two days after death.
     So I say, as long as you have that potential, be creative. Before you die, try using autosuggestion and visual imaging to preprogram into your brain a few posthumous reflexes. Things that will entertain the folks you leave behind and capture their imaginations. You might want to consider humming during your autopsy, or snapping your fingers during the embalming, or -- always a big winner at a wake -- bolting upright in your coffin and screaming, "I'm not really dead!" That one is especially fun if someone has brought along impressionable children.
     But perhaps you're of a more conservative stripe. If so, at your wake, something as simple as squeezing off several dozen loud but artistically redeeming farts that might bring a smile to the faces of those who knew you best: "Isn't that just like Uncle Bob," they'll chuckle, as they rush to open a window.
     So, folks, I think my message is clear; even in death, obligations to your loved ones do not end. You still have the responsibility to entertain and ease their grief. And should you persist, and be truly creative with these postdeath efforts, you may accomplish the rare feat of leaving behind a group of incensed relatives who beat you with heavy clubs until they are satisfied that you're fully and completely dead."

Napalm & Silly Putty

George Carlin

Don't you just absolutely ADORE him? He's wonderful.