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How do you want to go?


sparquelito

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Harakiri (Seppuku) would not be my choice, a very slow painful disembowelment with someone ready to take your head using a Katana.

Might as well go swimming in shark infested waters.

I would prefer too go with a smile on my face and a guitar or blonde in hand, or both...

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I always enjoy this poem about the subject by one of our Liverpudlian poets Roger McGough -

 

Let me die a youngman's death
not a clean and inbetween
the sheets holywater death
not a famous-last-words
peaceful out of breath death

When I'm 73
and in constant good tumour
may I be mown down at dawn
by a bright red sports car
on my way home
from an allnight party

Or when I'm 91
with silver hair
and sitting in a barber's chair
may rival gangsters
with hamfisted tommyguns burst in
and give me a short back and insides

Or when I'm 104
and banned from the Cavern
may my mistress
catching me in bed with her daughter
and fearing for her son
cut me up into little pieces
and throw away every piece but one

Let me die a youngman's death
not a free from sin tiptoe in
candle wax and waning death
not a curtains drawn by angels borne
'what a nice way to go' death

 

[wink]

 

Edited by jdgm
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13 hours ago, jvi said:

with clean underwear....., lost my 102 year old step mom and our 15 year old cat yesterday....Im hoping for nite time quik heart attack later in life  ,much later....live long and prosper folks....Jim

They strolled through the Pearly Gates together.   

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I'm not sure if I would rather have some advance notice or just be blindsided. We all know it's coming eventually, but if you get some kind of terminal diagnosis at least you can take care of some things first. But really I'd prefer something like an explosion or obliterated by a meteor or something. It's quick and no one will be able to stare at my dead ***.  

this reminded me of a funny song they used to play on 98Rock back in the day. Wouldn't you know the magic of Youtube has it 😎

 

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14 hours ago, jvi said:

with clean underwear....., lost my 102 year old step mom and our 15 year old cat yesterday....Im hoping for nite time quik heart attack later in life  ,much later....live long and prosper folks....Jim

That made me laugh,  clean underwear. My mom always talked about that subject as we grew up.  "Make sure you have clean underwear when you go out, she told us."

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13 hours ago, Whitefang said:

First, to KSDADDY:  I too, was with my wife when she passed Dec. '18.  I know that loss.  

And condolences too, for JVI.

And so, for a bit of levity----  I once read a plaque in a store that read:

"When I die I want to go like my grandfather... Peaceful, in his sleep.  Not screaming like the passengers in his car. "  

And a story of three old men, one 75, the second 87, and the third, 96.........

The 75 year old said, "You know, when I die, I'd like it to be fast.  Like a plane crash or car accident."

The  87 year old said, "I agree.  But also painless, like in my sleep."

The 96 year old said, "You guys can have it your way.  I' rather be shot by a jealous husband."  [wink]

Personally, I'd rather go also in a quick but painless manner.  And many years from now.

Whitefang

Haha, Reminds me of a guy at work way back. He was driving in a car pool and had a heart attack  and blacked out. There were 3 other guys in the car. 2 in back and the passenger next to him in the front was desperately trying to get over to grab the wheel and hit the brakes. There were almost 4 heart attacks that day I heard. 

 

 

 

 

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9 hours ago, Mr. Gibson said:

I want 3 in the back of my head.

It would just take one if it hit the brain stem.  I told Deb I would do that if i got Alzheimer's and she told me, "No your'e not, I won't get insurance money if you do." Lol   Told her, thats all you want?   I forgot the time I fell off a Hopper Car trying to release the hand brake. It was way up high and frozen tight. When I did get it released,  giving everything I had, I lost my balance falling down on the rail. The car line, about 20 cars started rolling forward to the building and all I saw was the trucks rolling toward me. I couldn't breathe as it knocked my breath away. I rolled fast off the tracks so I wouldn't get cut in half and barely missed the wheel as Steve ran and climbed up the car to set the brake again.  He came down and asked if I was ok but I couldn't answer. I thought that was the day I would see the Lord and almost blacked out. Then all of a sudden, my breath returned and I was trying to take deep breaths to get it back to normal before I could answer Steve.  My Aunt died of dementia and that was not how I wanted to go seeing her. She had no clue and with my mom at Little Kings, Alice went into the kitchen there taking her pants off and crapped in the waist basket as the employees looked on while mom was ordering. 

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14 hours ago, Retired said:

It would just take one if it hit the brain stem.  I told Deb I would do that if i got Alzheimer's and she told me, "No your'e not, I won't get insurance money if you do." Lol   Told her, thats all you want?   I forgot the time I fell off a Hopper Car trying to release the hand brake. It was way up high and frozen tight. When I did get it released,  giving everything I had, I lost my balance falling down on the rail. The car line, about 20 cars started rolling forward to the building and all I saw was the trucks rolling toward me. I couldn't breathe as it knocked my breath away. I rolled fast off the tracks so I wouldn't get cut in half and barely missed the wheel as Steve ran and climbed up the car to set the brake again.  He came down and asked if I was ok but I couldn't answer. I thought that was the day I would see the Lord and almost blacked out. Then all of a sudden, my breath returned and I was trying to take deep breaths to get it back to normal before I could answer Steve.  My Aunt died of dementia and that was not how I wanted to go seeing her. She had no clue and with my mom at Little Kings, Alice went into the kitchen there taking her pants off and crapped in the waist basket as the employees looked on while mom was ordering. 

She was Saving water, I admire Alice for her conservation efforts.

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Those who want off themselves aren’t serious or they would’ve already done it.. I have 2 close friends who already did it.. They didn’t talk big about it.. They didn’t talk about it at all.. They just did it....

It was an incredibly stupid waste.... It selfishly f#¥k$ up their Kids, Families & Friends.. What a cowardly thing to do..

It’s not funny, or cool or impressive.. It’s total stupidity...

 

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I want to die at age 82.
Like this;

After rescuing a litter of puppies from a burning building, and then riding my vintage Honda CR250 Elsinore motocross bike for an hour or two, I want to go home that day and enjoy a hot shower, some fresh clothes, and nice whiskey drink.
I'll pick up my pine Telecaster, and enjoy playing some blues.

The neighbor lady comes over.
She's 80, but fit.
She's a vixen.

"Sparky, I brought you some of that coffee you like."

"Well, thank you, Gretchen. You have always been a kind and generous friend. I appreciate you."

"I appreciate you too. But I'm not getting any younger. I need sex, and I need sex now."

"Gretchen, dear! And you with your husband not cold in his grave yet six months. Are you sure?"

She drops her tennis whites, and reveals a stunning body.
"My husband was a plastic surgeon, you know. He knew his stuff."

"Well. I do have this epi-pen of Viagra III Turbo®...."

We embrace, and the camera shifts to soft-focus out the window, and ocean waves crash on a craggy sea-side cliff.   White foam everywhere.

Later on, Gretchen gets up and makes me a sandwich, and goes back to her own place.
We agree to meet like this about ever other month, no commitments, no entanglements.

I have another whiskey drink, drop the needle on an old Neil & Tim Finn record.

Just then, I hear an angry mob appears on the street outside, and angry voices begin blaring over a megaphone.

"Alright, Sparky!! This is it!! We have had enough of your shenanigans!!"

Sh1t. The local Homeowner's Association, again.

"This business of riding your motocross bike across the Association golf course, and screwing all the widow ladies! This has got to stop!!"

I shout out the window, "You guys can go screw yourselves! I pay my dues! I know my rights!!"

I take a long pull off the whiskey bottle, and mutter, "I know my rights."

Carefully punching a code on the keypad near the garage door, I slip into my flight suit.
"Always knew it was going to end this way."

Steel doors open horizontally, then vertically, and the hermetically-sealed aperture opens with a slight pop. The sodium lamps burble and sputter, and the outer chamber goes from darkness into bright light, and there she is in the center of my garage floor;

My 1984 model AH-1S Cobra helicopter.
Freshly gassed up, and loaded for bear.

I climb up the side, crack open the back canopy door, climb-in, and strap myself in.
I punch a few buttons in the remote control panel, and the hydraulic servos and pistons slowly open the garage roof like an enormous, sinister clam-shell.

Glancing at the checklist, I flip a few switches, turn on the battery power, strap on my helmet, plug in my ICS cord, and pull the starter trigger.

I monitor the engine EGT as the Kaman rotor blades begin to turn slowly at first and then faster and faster. I release the trigger at 40% gas turbine speed, and then close the canopy. I throttle-up to full speed.

The engine howls nearly as loudly as the angry mob outside as I raise the collective lever and lurch upwards, out above the garage roof, and into the slate-grey sky.

The neighbors are furious.
They launch Bud Lite bottles and White Claw cans at my skids as I lumber up above their weapons range. My rotor wash causes three or four golf carts to upend and tumble over.
One lady goes ***-over-teakettle into the neighbors yard.

Once up into clean air, I climb into an over-watch orbit at 2,000 feet, and flip the Master Arm switch on. A small square light flickers yellow and then green, as the AGM-114Y Sub-Kiloton Nuclear HELLFIRE Missile sputters to life.

As I swing out over the coastline, I enjoy the scenery and the sublime beauty of the Arizona coast-line one more time. (California had tumbled into the sea ten years earlier.)

I take one last sip of whiskey from my flask, tighten my chin strap, and lower the nose sharply into a dive onto the final target and my last destination.

I settle my gun-sight onto the street below, and repeat myself,
"Always knew it was going to end this way."

I pull the trigger and the missile leaves me in its fiery wake.
A split second later, I feel a mild buffet, and then everything is blinding white.

Myself, and everything and everybody within fifteen miles vaporizes.

As my molecules disappear into the ether, I can hear tribal voices, and ukuleles softly playing.

 😔

 

 

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6 minutes ago, sparquelito said:

I want to die at age 82.
Like this;

After rescuing a litter of puppies from a burning building, and then riding my vintage Honda CR250 Elsinore motocross bike for an hour or two, I want to go home that day and enjoy a hot shower, some fresh clothes, and nice whiskey drink.
I'll pick up my pine Telecaster, and enjoy playing some blues.

The neighbor lady comes over.
She's 80, but fit.
She's a vixen.

"Sparky, I brought you some of that coffee you like."

"Well, thank you, Gretchen. You have always been a kind and generous friend. I appreciate you."

"I appreciate you too. But I'm not getting any younger. I need sex, and I need sex now."

"Gretchen, dear! And you with your husband not cold in his grave yet six months. Are you sure?"

She drops her tennis whites, and reveals a stunning body.
"My husband was a plastic surgeon, you know. He knew his stuff."

"Well. I do have this epi-pen of Viagra III Turbo®...."

We embrace, and the camera shifts to soft-focus out the window, and ocean waves crash on a craggy sea-side cliff.   White foam everywhere.

Later on, Gretchen gets up and makes me a sandwich, and goes back to her own place.
We agree to meet like this about ever other month, no commitments, no entanglements.

I have another whiskey drink, drop the needle on an old Neil & Tim Finn record.

Just then, I hear an angry mob appears on the street outside, and angry voices begin blaring over a megaphone.

"Alright, Sparky!! This is it!! We have had enough of your shenanigans!!"

Sh1t. The local Homeowner's Association, again.

"This business of riding your motocross bike across the Association golf course, and screwing all the widow ladies! This has got to stop!!"

I shout out the window, "You guys can go screw yourselves! I pay my dues! I know my rights!!"

I take a long pull off the whiskey bottle, and mutter, "I know my rights."

Carefully punching a code on the keypad near the garage door, I slip into my flight suit.
"Always knew it was going to end this way."

Steel doors open horizontally, then vertically, and the hermetically-sealed aperture opens with a slight pop. The sodium lamps burble and sputter, and the outer chamber goes from darkness into bright light, and there she is in the center of my garage floor;

My 1984 model AH-1S Cobra helicopter.
Freshly gassed up, and loaded for bear.

I climb up the side, crack open the back canopy door, climb-in, and strap myself in.
I punch a few buttons in the remote control panel, and the hydraulic servos and pistons slowly open the garage roof like an enormous, sinister clam-shell.

Glancing at the checklist, I flip a few switches, turn on the battery power, strap on my helmet, plug in my ICS cord, and pull the starter trigger.

I monitor the engine EGT as the Kaman rotor blades begin to turn slowly at first and then faster and faster. I release the trigger at 40% gas turbine speed, and then close the canopy. I throttle-up to full speed.

The engine howls nearly as loudly as the angry mob outside as I raise the collective lever and lurch upwards, out above the garage roof, and into the slate-grey sky.

The neighbors are furious.
They launch Bud Lite bottles and White Claw cans at my skids as I lumber up above their weapons range. My rotor wash causes three or four golf carts to upend and tumble over.
One lady goes ***-over-teakettle into the neighbors yard.

Once up into clean air, I climb into an over-watch orbit at 2,000 feet, and flip the Master Arm switch on. A small square light flickers yellow and then green, as the AGM-114Y Sub-Kiloton Nuclear HELLFIRE Missile sputters to life.

As I swing out over the coastline, I enjoy the scenery and the sublime beauty of the Arizona coast-line one more time. (California had tumbled into the sea ten years earlier.)

I take one last sip of whiskey from my flask, tighten my chin strap, and lower the nose sharply into a dive onto the final target and my last destination.

I settle my gun-sight onto the street below, and repeat myself,
"Always knew it was going to end this way."

I pull the trigger and the missile leaves me in its fiery wake.
A split second later, I feel a mild buffet, and then everything is blinding white.

Myself, and everything and everybody within fifteen miles vaporizes.

As my molecules disappear into the ether, I can hear tribal voices, and ukuleles softly playing.

 😔

 

 

What breed of puppies?

 

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9 hours ago, Mr. Gibson said:

She was Saving water, I admire Alice for her conservation efforts.

It was sad looking at her during those times though. She could hardly walk and walked on her toes. She forgot how to do it and she couldn't talk, sort of mumbled. That is why I don't want to go that way. It also runs in my family.  Haha, I bet if I do get the disease, Deb hides all my guns Lol. 

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7 hours ago, Larsongs said:

Those who want off themselves aren’t serious or they would’ve already done it.. I have 2 close friends who already did it.. They didn’t talk big about it.. They didn’t talk about it at all.. They just did it....

It was an incredibly stupid waste.... It selfishly f#¥k$ up their Kids, Families & Friends.. What a cowardly thing to do..

It’s not funny, or cool or impressive.. It’s total stupidity...

 

I wouldn't shoot myself but i joked about it with Deb if I got dementia like Alice. Wouldn't want to mess her up on the insurance money. We just have one son who's married. I came so close to dying so many ways, whatever the good Lord has planed for me is fine.  I've suffered lots of pain in different ways. Truth is I swallow wrong so many times and choke on my own saliva that I think thats how I probably will go in my sleep? 

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My Great Grandpa migrated legally from Sweden to Chicago as a teenage boy in the late 1800’s. He worked for the Chicago Rail Road his whole like & retired.. I still have his engraved retirement Rail Road Pocket Watch.

He had a long retirement with his lifetime Sweet heart my Great Grandma who also migrated legally from Sweden to Chicago as a young woman.

They were the greatest people I’ve ever known. 

One day, when he was in his 80’s, he went down to the local Tavern to play Cards with his friends & have a couple Beers as he did every week before a Baseball game.. Then he’d go home & sit by the Radio & listen to the game.. Then he would take a nap... 

One day he never woke up..... I sure do miss them... This Thread is really bringing back the memories...

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22 hours ago, Larsongs said:

Those who want off themselves aren’t serious or they would’ve already done it.. I have 2 close friends who already did it.. They didn’t talk big about it.. They didn’t talk about it at all.. They just did it....

It was an incredibly stupid waste.... It selfishly f#¥k$ up their Kids, Families & Friends.. What a cowardly thing to do..

It’s not funny, or cool or impressive.. It’s total stupidity...

 

Be damned hard to shoot your self 3 times behind the ear. I’d probably miss anyway.lol

The thread did say,how do you want to go. That was my answer.

Don’t be a buzz runner.

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If I could choose, it would be something similar to my dad’s passing.  He was 5 weeks from his 97th birthday, living in his own home, still sharp-as-a-tack and content.  He passed-away on a Sunday morning while watching the Western Channel on TV.  He loved watching Gunsmoke and John Wayne movies.  It was a massive stroke and he simply went to sleep.  He often said he didn’t want to spend weeks in a hospital and then linger for months in a nursing home.  He wanted to die in his own home and he pretty much went how he wanted it.  BTW, he’ll be gone one year on Monday, April 5.

Edited by MissouriPicker
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