Die, v.: To stop sinning suddenly.

There are only two things in life are certain, death and taxes or so the saying goes. Hey, don’t look at me like that, I spent ages thinking up an almost cheery way to start up a post about death and as with so much of life, I have failed miserably. Can you really blame me though? Death is a topic that most seem to avoid like the plague. Dare to bring it up in a social situation and you will be given pariah status faster than the average teen drops their ability to write coherently before a facebook post. Now, I’m not saying that death should be the go to topic upon meeting the average blithering idiot, unless it is your wish to make that weirdness you are hiding so deep to become apparent to said idiot. All I’m looking for is a state in which we are comfortable discussing the inevitable fate of each and every one of us unlucky sacks of consciousness. Is that too much to ask for?

As with every post, I have had recent experiences with the topic at hand. Thankfully it has all been theoretical discussion rather than actual firsthand experience. I doubt a blog that gets fewer hits than a no-armed cricketer would be the best place to announce it in all honesty.  No, instead my curiosity was piqued by the often odd reactions I would have upon venturing a discourse with another concerning the subject. The reactions have ranged from people quickly changing the subject, to point-blank refusal to continue the discussion, all the way to a very interesting American stranger who discussed it with me in length into the early hours of the morn. It seems that the reactions are polarised to a great degree depending on the person in question, however there is one common theme that can be seen; they all seem to fear it, as some form of imminent spectre.

The great distinction between us and the animal kingdom is that we are afforded the knowledge of our own mortality; no other creature is blessed, or cursed depending on your view, with this time limit. All others are allowed to continue in a state of blissful ignorance, whereas we are forced to come to terms with our inevitable failure at the great game of life. Yet, unlike what many would have you believe, we aren’t more capable than a beaver or a whale at dealing with said information; it terrifies us. Therefore great deals of us are prone to wild theories, in the form of religions and life philosophies, which are supposed to help us cope. It is quite amazing just how imaginative the average shmoe can be in their attempts to rationalise such an immense concept.

I won’t sit here and claim to know what happens after death, I am not as simple minded as to try and baby you in a similar way to a religious leader. Instead I shall tell you my own personal view on the matter, one that is undoubtedly shared by a vast many of others; this is all there is, nothing more. The idea of ceasing to exist may scare some but it doesn’t fear me in the slightest. Why? You ask, it’s simple; even if there is an afterlife, by the time I reach death, I will either have bigger problems to deal with in said afterlife or I will no longer have the capacity to be fearful as I will cease to be. It’s as simple as that.

Without the ever presence of death, you could not contrast the life and beauty of the world around you, therefore it should be embraced. Be thankful that you and your loved ones will someday leave this godforsaken rock in search of pastures new or at the very least, they will be blissfully non-existent.

Death joke because nothing says funny like the death sentence

A murderer, sitting in the electric chair, was about to be executed.

"Have you any last requests? asked the chaplain.

"Yes," replied the murderer. "Will you hold my hand?"

Will write poorly constructed blog posts for money

It’s a sad day when you aren’t quite good enough to work for McDonalds. The final nail in the coffin of the plucky young lad who had been so fervently looking for employment, slowly lowering his standards until finally, the day comes when the phrase “would you like fries with that?” seems like the optimal career move. Little did he know, this most disdained of jobs was less the broad side of a barn and more a rapidly disappearing target in a thunderstorm, much like every other job he had tried for up till that point. It is at this point that our average hero sadly gives up his search and returns to a life of poverty and free time. It'll take much more than that to deter me dear reader, I’ve sunk far lower.

Let me give you a little context to the situation before this post derails in the characteristic train wreck that is my writing style; for a good month and a bit, my friend Tom (whose blog I have linked for your pleasure below whilst also dedicating this post to) and I have been on a jobs hunt. It began with a casual browse through the odd jobs website and ended up with a series of long treks to far flung jobs centres, which more often than not, yielded no results other than another scratch upon my ego. Believe me when I tell you, my ego has now gained the appearance of a battle hardened veteran; there’s even a few of those cool scars on the cheeks.

Before I continue with my story, I must ask that you think not too badly of me for the blatant hypocrisy exhibited in the following; I abandoned my moral compass in my search for work long ago. The story begins similarly to the many other online applications I had completed over the previous weeks, the difference being that this particular store had deemed me worthy of a reply and an interview. Only, I didn’t quite realise this until 3 days prior to the interview and as such, was forced to scramble my resources in order to fill out all the required forms and gather all the other paraphernalia that I would need, but I digress. The interviews were held in a hotel attached to west ham football ground, conveniently easy to reach through the front entrance but being the adventure loving idiot that I am, I didn’t quite realise this and as such, ended up wandering to the rather less extravagant backside of the grounds in search of some mystical entrance. Things were off to a great start.

After I had wandered back to the front, I sauntered up to the front desk, mustering the small amounts of cool I had been saving for just such an occasion in order to make a good first impression but once again, my efforts were in vain as I was caught off guard by a team member who was hanging about to my side. I was promptly led upstairs to a seating area filled with a bunch of others and a screen with some form of indoctrinating video on loop, its lures were tempting but I managed to retain my mind for just long enough to escape to the interview. The interview itself was pretty uneventful; I charmed the pants off of the interviewer whilst answering a load of simple questions in an elegant fashion. As quickly as it had begun, the process was over and I was free of the dreaded confines of that top button on the shirt. Now here’s the kicker; the store in question is that moral bastion known as Squidlypib (retconned for SPOILERS "This could get me fired" reasons) and no, I didn’t get the job. I sold my morals in a bid to get a minimum wage job for a conglomerat, propping up the capitalist system whilst also potentially helping a known user of child labour all in one fell swoop. I didn’t even get the bloody job. I’ve outdone myself this time.

Good news for you though, I’m still available for work. If you need a writer of slightly depressing or overtly verbose, quasi-philosophical nonsense, I’m your man.

http://thefrequientlyincoherentmindofagenius.blogspot.com/

Rib-tickilingly bad joke to while away the seconds

Q. What happened to the boat that sank in the sea full of piranha fish?
A. It came back with a skeleton crew!