Tuesday, December 13, 2016


What did I find in my mailbox today? Well, in the run up to the election it was all kinds of unreadable, and usually there are flyers and coupons from local stores.

Today it was an envelope from a mortuary society, cheerily stating on the outside under the return address that they were "celebrating life".

I have not opened it yet, but I can already imagine what I will find.

"Dear Mr. and Mrs. Atboth,

Have you or a loved one considered dying? We can help!"

And I'm sure they can. And they are banking on everybody in the Atboth Family, to which they addressed their kindly missive, to know at least one person near death, as I'm sure I do.

There is no "Mrs. Atboth", by the way. They could have and should have addressed it NOT to "The Atboth Family", but to "The Lonesome and Forlorn Single Man Atboth", or "The Grouchy Old Bastard Atboth", or even "The Defiantly Ageless and Still Vibrantly Young & Very Feisty Mr. Atboth". Who presently has no intention of satisfying their optimistic holiday season's expectation of croaking.

Multi-facetted Mr. Atboth does not plan to die.

Honestly, what the deuce does that mortuary society expect from me?
Do they wish me to feel sickly now, and a wee bit worried about whether or not I am properly pickled and plasticized, if and when?
I should commit to a tasteful headstone?
Somber typeface, all caps?

Sorry, I am not sufficiently 'Goth' to actually do so.
But thanks for inquiring about my health.
It is still robust and vibrant.
I am not dead yet.

NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.

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