Some indian guy called me a few years ago and wanted to sell me a funeral plan. Anything I wanted, he said. While I didn't sign up with him, since it was pretty clear he sold his clients to Calcutta street food vendors, I was still grateful to him for getting me to plan for the inevitable and let everyone know that they will need to construct a 100 foot trebuchet atop a coastal cliff with which to fling me into the sea, as well as a symphony orchestra to play I'm Sailing Away, during which the release shall be pulled and, with a Shoosh-FwaTONG I shall be freed of this mortal coil. Naturally, my wives will come along for the ride, as a kindness, since it would be inhumane to ask them to somehow persevere without me.
Maybe I should have tho. He assured me, at each step, that these arrangements were easily managed.
