Saturday, March 19, 2005

PhaWRONGula's Living Will

Pharyngula: Schiavo

Hearken, ye: when I am gone,
You might carve my name in stone,
Seed my grave with cheerful flowers,
Or gossip with my ghost for hours.

Cast my ashes out to sea;
Carve my liver up for tea;
Or sell me off to Billy Black,
The local necrophiliac.

Have me stuffed and mounted like
Uncle Mort's enormous pike,
Or let the jackals pick me bare;
Being dead, I will not care.

5 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Permission to use as my epitaph?

11:23 PM  
Blogger PhaWRONGula said...

Permission granted;
carve it proudly on your grave,
and then rot away.

11:53 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Should I just credit it to "Anonymous?" "Anonymous Internet Wag," perhaps?

11:42 PM  
Blogger PhaWRONGula said...

That has a nice ring.
Anonymous Wag, that's me,
and thus remembered.

11:53 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Anonymous Wag though you be,
At least through March 23
We'll uncover you soon
But not before noon
April 1st.

One way---or another,
We'll illuminate you, Whoever
You may be,
Because resistance is futile
Don't deny it, since your noodle
Is clearly not shriveled
Beyond use.

5:38 PM  

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