Maybe I should quit smoking. As a smoker, when I learned Peter Jennings had died, I immediately thought of myself rather than his life or how his family might feel. I'm a Shaved Ape and that's how it goes. My ancestors just recently swung down from the trees and shaved themselves, so it's dubious to expect true, human empathy.
I imagined that if I was diagnosed with advanced lung cancer, and I didn't expect to live very long, I would immediately cash in my 401k plan. My plan, unfortunately, consists of a Winchester 1200 (12 gage shotgun). Dying in pain or a morphine-induced stupor while drooling from the corners of my mouth isn't the way I plan to check out of this ridiculous, not-funny game called life.
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