I see that a large crowd is expected at the funeral of the guy in Texas who fell over the railing while reaching for a baseball. Unfortunately it wasn't G.W. Bush. Oh well.
This got me to thinking that it might be cool to die a really silly, pointless death. It would make me a posthumous "celebrity". And would be less painful and awful than slowly wasting away from an actual disease.
I think I'd like to be known as the woman who met her maker in the Giant New-Dill-Flavoured-Doritos-Free-Giveaway Stampede.
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