Most folks got about a 90% chance of checking out around 80 from cancer, heart disease, or some other part wearing out. Then they slide you into a polished 4K box like a roadkill raccoon with a nicer address. That’s life. No Disneyland in the clouds. No Dante’s Hell with fire pits and pitchforks. Just silence and dirt till the gravestone tips over sideways.
Cemeteries are basically expensive lumber and crowded real estate. A thousand years from now people will probably burn us up, dump the ashes on a mountain with the flowers, and call it environmentally friendly.
And if you’re lucky, the fourth wife becomes your guardian angel. She won’t laugh at your jokes and she’ll call you “the Devil” at least twice a week. You’ll hear “WTF?” more than “I love you.” That’s marriage science.
And don’t stare at cemeteries from the freeway. It’s distracting. You might end up in one by rubbernecking at the place you’re trying to avoid. But you’ll look anyway. I know human behavior.
Now here’s what’ll really happen — Mister Tony’s gonna show up under my song posting scripture and warning me about eternal flames.
And one more thing on marriage:
One day you’ll tell your wife, “I didn’t know women fart.”
And she’ll say,
“Well… I guess I proved you wrong.”
That’s real life right there.

Last edited by bennash; 05/23/26 08:46 AM.
We’re all built from the same dust and dreams,
Different roads, but the same means.