Eh, lighten up; we all die. But that is a blunt observation at best, and does little to prepare you for the catastrophic pressures that will eventually lead to your death in a decrepid opium den in Manilla Bay by the hands of a revengeful cambodian child prosititute.. ye gods! A joyous release from the blinding pain radiating from every joint in your body as they are slowly ground into jelly by the slow march of age. Of course you'll wish the little whore hadn't used a corkscrew, but the little man in horn rimmed glasses who really plots out every twist of fate in your life left his post nine years ago, and is right now probally drinking gin with your second wife in a trailer park in Ashton, South Caroline. But that is neither here nor there, suffice to say by the time gas hits $4 a gallon, I'll be able to buy a Humvee for about half of that. Count on it. Mahalo...
