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I would rather be blown up than brought down. Instantaneous death is better than slow suffering. That being said, we are more likely to die from hit-and-runs and car accidents, and in local gun violence than in terrorist flight incidents, and it is a fact that pilot error and mechanical problems have also caused more plane crashes. You want to stay safe and alive, STAY HOME. But then, slipping in the shower, being electrocuted while on the phone, falling off an unstable ladder, brain amoeba infection while using nose drops, bookcase falling on you during an earthquake or tornado, oil spill on the stove top, malfunctioning microwave oven, malaria mosquito bite, rabid pet dog, cockroach and poop-covered housefly in a sandwich made with expired mayonnaise and undercooked chicken…..
It is always goose hunting season. Even the flu is hunting goose.
I still would rather have a frontal lobotomy rather than a bottle in front of me.
Needless to say, I choke and gag on hanging jokes.
Folks who love the guillotine say that it is the “Slice of Life”.
Marvel Comics writer Peter David might like to work in Florida or where ever they still use the chair cause he always is fond of the “shocking” word. As for death devices, I was always partial to the Iron Maiden, and I ain’t talking about the band.
I always thought that those who wanted to kill people by drugging them were so vein.
It is easier to get the hang of it rather than to get ahead if you don’t like the bloody job.
A rewrite chorus of Bon Jovi’s “It’s My Life” with Pig in mind. Goes something like this: “It’s my life, it’s now or never, but I am not considered clever, I just want some good results, cause it’s my life. I can’t seem to work things out, cause I don’t have any clout, but I am somewhat happy I’m alive, it’s my life. Still, my life is like an open sewer, nothing around here is getting any newer, and, I, I just want to—um— to eat some more cheese, cause it tastes real good -AND- my life ain’t turning out the way it should, I think I should just eat while I’m alive, so it’s my life; hey— I just want to say—”What!" my friends are hopeless anyway, but, please don’t tell my sister or my wife, cause, well, it’s my life.
Too close for comfort. Surely, you can’t be serious? I would rather have a friend whose name is “Late for Dinner”.