Any last words?

Last Saturday Areenos, Legal Counsel and I went to Price Club (I refuse to call it Costco) to prepare for the Scooby party. Basically, I was being used for my membership card...tear. It was a successful trip: 2 liters of tequila for $10, 10 pints of rum for $25, 3 gallons of Smirnoff for $3.50 and a hogshead of mead for a tuppence. We also got a box of delicious/evil cookies, some snackage and a bushel of human kidneys.

As we were leaving, I was sitting in the back seat while Areenos was driving. Legal Counsel won't let me sit in the front seat - she says I'm not "mature" enough. I think it's a load of doodie. I didn't want to sit in the front anyway. In the back I can pretend that I have a chauffeur. "Home, Jeeves, and don't spare the horses."

So Areenos was backing out of the spot and I, being morbid and possibly crazy, had a vision of my own death. I imagined somebody in a big SUV (maybe an H3) speeding through the parking lot and talking on their cell phone while drinking a cup of coffee, yelling at their kids and knitting. Just as the back door of Areenos' car (with me behind it) peaked out from behind the big truck parked next to us, the SUV slammed into the car, killing me but leaving Areenos and Legal Counsel unharmed. I'm pretty messed up.

And what was I doing as I imagined this scenario? Singing. And then it hit me (not the H3) - my last words on this earth could have been, "Why do you build me up, buttercup?" Weird.

Or maybe not so weird. To know me is to know that I randomly break into song and dance. One of my fellow students (who shall remain nameless until I can think of a nickname, but let's just say that her name is an anagram "of Rich Man Alert") has gone so far as to nickname me "Mr. DJ." Add that to the list of nicknames that don't stick to Montgomery, the King of Sobriquets. Also, add "King of Sobriquets" to the list.

My singing isn't very good and my dancing is downright frightening, but that doesn't deter me. I can't stop the boogie. So if my death occurs as a result of sudden accident (random gunshot, fatal overdose of car administered to the face, etc), there's a good chance it will be mid-song. As a consequence, the following are likely ends to my short but sweet life:

I'm a rocket man, burning out my fuse up here alone *BANG*
Good eye, sniper *CRUNCH*
We're never gonna survive unless we get a little crazy *SQUISH*
Oh Mandy, you came and you gave without taking *KA-BOOM*
Some day we'll find it, the rainbow connection *WHAMMY*
Psycho killer. Qu'est-ce que c'est *BIFF*
Science fiction...double feature... *CRACK*
And when I get excited, my little china girl *SLICE*
Balloons or no balloons *WHACK*
I can't get behind that! *SBLOUNSKCHED*

I suppose I should also let you know that I imagine my death involving one of those 1966 Batman onomatopoeia bubbles.

But now that I look at my list, it doesn't seem so bad. Dying happy and in the middle of a tune is pretty sweet. And people will say, "I remember Montgomery. He died doing what he loved: being crushed by an elephant accidentally dropped from a zoo-owned airplane singing off-key."

Of course, dying in a song is a lot more difficult if you've got some kind of chronic disease or prolonged injury. You've got to have wicked awesome timing to predict your exact time of death, which is half the reason I'm going to medical school. I suppose an equally Montgomery-esque set of last words would be to go out on a joke. I'd be sitting in my death bed, waiting for the perfect setup to an amazing zinger. Then after delivering the line (which will most likely be, "that's what she said"), I'll not talk for the rest of my miserable life.

If all else fails, I'll probably use one of the following: "Catch you on the flipside," "keep on keepin' on," "peace out," or simply, "who farted?"

This was a pretty morbid post...

Restraint
In SBS today, Dr. Racy read a complaint he received about a guest lecturer last week showed a clip from Fatal Attraction. The lecturer was a psychiatrist who might have been a little crazy himself. He looked like a cross between George Carlin and Gen. Robert E. Lee, with the voice of Alan Alda.

The whiner claimed that the clip/comic was offensive to his religious and moral ideas and that the lecturer should be ashamed. The lecturer shouldn't have shoved his heathen lifestyle in the class' face. It was offensive and disrespectful to everybody who has ever existed. An affront to humanity itself. It also implied that non-religious people have no morals, which is what upset me most.

It was a very nasty, judgmental letter.

Basically, instead of seeing the clip as an example of borderline personality disorder (maybe...I haven't read up on the personality disorders yet, but borderline sounds about right), they chose to see it as an offensive example of pornography and devil worship. It showed an extramarital affair, a boobie, a suicide attempt, a psychotic person and Michael Douglas. All things, I'd like to point out, that you might see in practice.

I want to blog about this event. I want to rant and rave about how people living such close-minded, sheltered, judgmental lives shouldn't go into medicine. But I won't. First off, it would get too serious and not fit the style of this blog, which is mostly an attempt at humor. And second, I'm sure somebody would get offended. We've already seen that people can't handle light-hearted attempts to entertain. So I'll keep it to myself.

I hate restraint.