I came to the realization last night that we are all going to die eventually, and it really doesn't matter what you've done with your life.
It doesn't matter if you're Mahatma Gandhi or the little old lady who kept 89 cats in a two room apartment, you're going to die.
Even Mark Twain, who once said that the reports of his death were greatly exaggerated ended up dying.
That is unless you want to believe the reports that Twain is sharing a room with Elvis in Kalamazoo and working twenty hours a week as a greeter at WalMart to supplement his meager social security stipend.
Yeah, unless you want to believe that, we all end up dead.
Ahhhhhh Mark baby, if you fry me up a couple peanut butter and nanner sammiches I'll give you another Cadillac.
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2 comments:
I thought the King was holed up working service at a Circuit City in Saginaw...or driving the bus for the Port Huron hockey team...
Circuit City never makes good on their warrenties....that in itself makes death seem inevitable.
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