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Page 8 of 14
Today, I woke up.
- I wiped the sand from my eyes.
- Ten minutes later I did a little Shaker peeing and splashed some of that good yellow stuff on the toilet seat.
- Two minutes after that, I blew my nose and threw the tissue in the wastebasket near the toilet I fouled.
- 30 seconds later, I cried a little bit because of the loss of my pee stream aim because I am getting older.
- Three minutes later, I wiped the crying snot on my shirtsleeve.
What is the value of a life? Moreover, who can be held accountable for determining the value of a life and who can judge when a life should come to a close? Can it be that a person can properly make the choice to end their own life?
[Publisher’s Note — December 14, 2016: Thanks to the Internet Archive, we were able to resurrect this important article from 2008 that has been missing from our publication canon for many years! We found this article in the Wayback Machine by doing a search on the old Urban Semiotic URL for this article that we found in another article we published.
We have retained the original article URL and publication date and time stamp to preserve pre-existing links. We have copied and pasted the original article — in situ — directly from Archive.org to preserve provenance. The images are missing. The links redirect to back to the Wayback Machine — just as it all should be now! The missing image artifacts looks like this archive was snapped while we were on Movable Type! Now that’s a memory! Please donate to the Internet Archive — we did the second the Internet Archive resurrected this excellent work!
You can’t have better proof than this that the Internet Archive is valuable and necessary to preserving the us of us!]
There is nothing more frustrating as a consumer than being told what you are experiencing and describing is not happening or isn’t real. Many early iPhone 3G adopters have been reporting terrible White Apple of Death screens as the iPhone 3G completely locks up and becomes unresponsive and we feel brushed away by Apple as delusional wackos in need of censoring. We are upset and we are angry and we’re not going to take it anymore!
You are the pilot of a spaceship. All systems are failing with no chance for recovery. You, and all souls aboard, are going to disintegrate in a crash and explosion. There is no hope for escape or survival. Everyone will die.
Is this beautiful rendering of a “Death of a Slave” an erotic meeting of impermanence and inevitability — or is it more a cold, moral homily, against the wages of living a sacred life?