Almost everyone dies. I don’t, of course; and the other deities; and Dick Clark. But almost everyone else does. Sadly, you fall into the “Everyone Else” category. This can be painful for those left behind, like Me. For instance, I expected several more books out of Douglas Adams, and now it’s too late to make him a zombie.
Even more painful, though, is when you die and don’t mention Me in the will. This hurts My feelings and makes the baby Jesii cry. I know that you don’t want Me to be sad after you’re gone, and you know that the only thing that gets Me through is a nice recuperative vacation in the Alps or on a little Mediterranean island. So I want to bring to your attention a truly thoughtful member of My Chosen People, John Mortimer.
Not only did John create the delightful Rumpole of the Bailey, but he was kind enough to have a church funeral after he kicked the bucket. With church rental, vicar fees, organ rental, pew space advertising and the 16.5% kickback I get from all funeral homes, he ended up leaving Me a tidy sum. As the vicar said, he was an “atheist for Christ”.
That, dear Chosen Ones, is the sort of example you should all be paying attention to. After all, you can’t take it with you and I’m going to be on vacation anyway, so your hard-earned might as well go toward My bar tab or to tip the bellboys.
It’s a good way to show the world the special relationship you have with Me. As an added bonus, I will be making a toast to John – and any of you who leave Me a little something to remember you by – with the finest scotch that his money can buy.
I’ve got to run, as the bartender needs his pen back, but here’s to John. And I raise a hopeful glass to any others of you who are feeling a bit peaky as you read this. Salud!
Wish You Were Here,