On the subject of death. Part 2

In my last bit I covered how I would choose, or actually, not choose, to die. This time around I will answer the second part of Marty's query by telling you all how I would like to be displayed if I am to die before all of you. I can tell you I would not make a vain corpse. I wouldn't have to be put somewhere and preserved like that pretty boy Lenin. I would actually much prefer not to be displayed but, instead to have my body mulched in an industrial strength wood chipper and sprayed upon my enemies. This may not be the cleanest way to go out but your enemies will never forget you, that is for sure. I suppose I wouldn't be much for statues either, unless they were really abstract and weird with no mention of me anyway. That way only people who knew that it was my statue would understand. Then you have gravestones, man those are retarded. A big flashy angel sitting atop your grave pointing a sword up to Heaven is so lame. What a waste of money and marble. Perhaps you have a mortal fear of being forgotten but having a stone like that might as well read, "Here lies the body of a giant douche". If you are that forgettable in life, you will remain so in death. Only after you die you can't continue to appear at random parties and remind everyone how much you suck. You could be displayed on TV I suppose. If you die in a big way and it gets caught on tape, you may just end up a dead celebrity. You see, "Shocking", video all the time of people crashing their cars or trying to paraglide into a moving plane and in twenty years, you will still be seeing those videos. If you are suicidal, try this, become your own display. Drink two gallons of blue paint, strap three grenades to your stomach and find a big white wall, preferably during an art fair. Then, simply pull the pins, BOOM, instantly displayed. It would be even better if you carried a five gallon pail of fast setting epoxy resin with you. I guess I really don't care too much about being on display, that is more fun when you are alive. Let me make it simple for you Marty, after I go, you do what ever your sick little heart tells you to do. My suggestion is a corpse-a-pult.