Dear Friends,
As you may know, I will be joining an annual rafting trip on the Colorado River this weekend. In Utah. Why the Colorado River is in Utah, I have no idea. Seems to me that the easy way to do it is to call it the Utah River. Or something else. Anything else but the Colorado River, really.
As you probably also know, I am not a man who makes good decisions. I elected to be a human horseshoe post while someone threw hula hoops over me just moments ago, in front of my direct supervisor. I am found vomiting in an outdoor venue due to a bad choice of drink (amount) or food (Best By Date). I once thought that melting cheese on a carrot might make a wonderful snack that nobody had invented yet.
So, because this involves a minor amount of danger, which is exacerbated by my bad decision-making, I did want to say some final words.
First, I will miss you all. Unless this heaven stuff is bullshit. Or it’s super-real and they have a pill there that makes it so you never miss anyone. Okay, so I won’t miss you, but I would if it weren’t for the fact that religion is made up of filthy lies and heaven wasn’t so good at making pills.
You’ll probably miss me, however. I wish I could comfort you in these times. But I’ll be dead. So I’m not saying you’re on your own, but maybe if you want me to comfort you in your times of need, stop me from being on a raft while full of whiskey and strong ideas about jetpacks that I fully intend to implement as soon as we come ashore.
My stuff. Let me take a moment to remind you that my stuff is all shit. Let’s not destroy relationships over shitty stuff. Unless the relationships are shit. In that case, I say go nuts. You really have nothing to lose at this point. It’s more an across-the-board trade, and what do you care what my second-cousin’s wife thinks about you?
To my parents:
I’m not saying this is your fault. But maybe a little more parenting would have helped me avoid thrill-seeking activities. Or, maybe a little worse parenting would have ensured that I was thrill-seeking to an extreme, which would have resulted in my passing much earlier in life, which would have been a lot more efficient.
To my friends:
You’d better also be gone because you came after me in the river, screaming my name. If you didn’t do so, please disregard this message and skip to the section labeled for “enemies.”
To my former lovers:
I don’t really know what to say. Just listen to Foreigner’s vast catalogue of hits and pull what you can from there. Whatever they said, I totally felt that.
To my enemies:
I always secretly thought you were right all along.
I think that just about covers it.
Oh, and closed casket, please. I don’t know whether I’ll be banged up. But I just don’t find my appearance very family-friendly in general, so let’s keep everything cool, huh?
Yours,
Peter