Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Podunk's Last Will And Testicles....

They say that we should put our final intentions in writing.  And what is more legal and binding than a fukkin' Blogspot entry??   Huh??   Nuthing, that's what!  All that being said, and understanding that I am in better than perfect health and the only place I plan on going anytime soon is the far side of the bar at the Tilted Kilt for a frosty glass, here goes.......

I hereby revoke all wills and testamentary dispositions of every nature and kind whatsoever by me hereto before made.  Let it be known for hereto whatever and such bequesting bullshit that the following is pretty much how shit is gonna go down when the time comes.

Do NOT dress me up in a suit or lay my bald head on a fancy fukkin' pillow!  Do not surround me with flowers that smell like ass and do not roll me down the aisle of some brick building singing hymns that make people think of their grandparents.  As I like to say, "Fahk all that shit!"

Don't get me wrong... I wanna be laid out for all to see so that you bullshitters can stand around talking about how gawdam awesome I look dead.  Just don't be praying over me... I'm already friggin' gone fahchrisake, toes to the sky and stiffer than a morning boner.  By that time, I'll already be boot scuffin' in some purgatory honky tonk with Hank, Waylon and Johnny (and Kenny Rogers' original face), sippin' shine and tossing back shots of Jim.  Listen, when I'm dead, I'm doing some fukkin' shots!!

Walt Disney is frozen and Jesus says he's coming back.  Joe Diffie wants to be propped up by the jukebox.  Tanya Tucker wants to go to Texas and Bocephus wants to go to Dixie.  Tim Finnegan gets a barrel of whiskey at his feet and Willie Nelson wants to be rolled up and smoked.  Blood, Sweat and Tears said to bundle up the coffin cuz it's cold way down there.  Yeah, it's crazy cold way down there.  And Norman Greenbaum - that freak wants to go see some spirit in the sky.  Me?  Stretch my dead ass out on a picnic table in my backyard with my "Life Is Too Short To Ride With Ugly Chicks" t-shirt and a pair of Levis 560s slung just below the beer belly to show off the pleasure trail - that's right!  Don't you dare think about wrapping some prayin' beads around my hands either!!  Tuck my left hand in my jeans and extend my right index finger toward the crowd with a Pull This sign.  Hey, might as well see if it works when we're dead.  No kneeler by my body either.  I don't need people making any sign of the cross or touching my cold hands.  That's fukkin gross!  Nope, all I ask for ladies is a quick show of yer boobies as you pass by.  No worries if age has gotten the best of you and gravity forces them to drop and hit me in the nose.  I'll ride that motorboat right into wherever I am going.  And dudes... a Harley wave will do just fine, thank you.

Embalm me in sunscreen 50 cuz I hear it's hot down there.  Fill the washer machine with PBRs, fire up the deep fryer and have a gawdam cookout please!  Do NOT have a funeral in a church!  If you dare bring me into one of those empty stone buildings with rules on the wall, a bird bath at the entrance and a guy in a robe pretending to be closer to God than everyone else, I will haunt your asses until the end of time.  If ya feel better having some kinda funeral, then find an outdoor bar with cans of beer on ice and a band playing Copperhead Road.  Party your asses off, sing loud and dance like a white guy - ya know, no rhythm and biting your bottom lip while doing the Cupid Shuffle.  It's how I would want it.

And when the party is ovah... cremate the bejeezus out of me.  No need to spend any money on a 6 foot hole or a piece of marble that some dickhead teenagah drunk on Twisted Teas is just gonna kick ovah anyway.  Nope, cook me up on high and fill up three brown paper lunch bags with my ashes.  I want someone to take the first bag and bring it down to Garden City in South Carolina during spring bike week.  I want those ashes spread out along Atlantic Ave directly in front of the 10 state troopahs who are diddling their balls watching bikers party at the Causeway.  Bag #2 shall be taken up in a small prop plane over H-town and scattered all over the fukkin' place.  Cuz dead is the ONLY way I will ever go sky diving.  And lastly, Bag #3 shall be set aside for one year.  When the time is right, there will be a Friday night church service at the First Church of the Blessed Excrement, aka Holy Shit, I'm At Church, where I Ash Friday to be an annual ritual held in my honor.  That's where Sister Emma will use my ashes to draw a dick on your forehead.  Cuz a dickhead is always funny.

As far as what I'm leaving behind... don't touch my shit.  Redistribution of wealth, as little as it may be, is a Democrat trick.  And I ain't no jackass!

Y'all and yunz and yous guys got it?  Good!

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