One has to wonder, why do we celebrate our birthdays? We didn't celebrate them when we were actually born - we were too busy doing something else at the time. And if we actually remembered what it was like, the memory would probably be so traumatic that we wouldn't be celebrating it, anyway.
Birthdays, birthdays, birthdays. You know, as someone* once said, being born is really like dying, in reverse. First you're not there, and then you are. Which gives me an idea. What if, instead of celebrating our birth every year, we celebrated our death? I mean, we might as well celebrate it, while we've still got time. It'll give us something to do, rather than being shit-scared about the prospect. Think about it: instead of actually missing out on our own funerals, we'd get to go along, too.
Naturally, we don't know when we're going to die - which is kind of the whole point. Holding our own funeral would be an excellent excuse to get drunk all day, every day. You know, just in case.
Then again, maybe I'll just return to my mother's womb. Nice and safe; no fear of dying there. I'll just call Mum up in a second ...
The womb's a fine and private place
But none, I think, do there embrace ...
What do you think?
*Philip Adams
I absolutely agree that we should all celebrate our own, inevitable impending deaths through daily drunken, raucous behaviour.
ReplyDeleteAnd, we should all compose our own epitaphs. I've found this wonderful website where one can do just that. See link on me blog.
Redsaid (who is not dead yet)
I think Phillip Adams's philosophies are quite banal, cos dying is like life in reverse you know, man... as for celebrating your own death it seems a pretty cool idea, but would you only be able to do it once a year? Or would it be an excuse to get as drunk as often as you wanted?
ReplyDeleteWell, put it this way: drinking about death seems to be much more sensible than thinking about death...
ReplyDeletei don't celebrate my birthday because A) it's just an excuse to get drunk, and i don't need an excuse to do that, and B) it's usually tragic: three of the worst days of my life have been birthdays, and i'm only 24. it's bullshit!
ReplyDelete