GOT ANY MORE LEAVES IN THAT STALL? + Death Row

Recently I came across a statistic published by the Population Reference Bureau in Washington. It stated that as of 1995 the number of people who had lived on earth was 105, 472, 380, 169. The figure was based on the assumption that “the first two people ” had emerged in 50, 000 B.C. So I did a little arithmetic of my own, and I’ve concluded that as of 1995 there had been over 987 trillion bowel movements. I was very conservative: I assumed a mere thirty-year life span and only six bowel movements per week. Still, it means that at this point there have been almost 1 quadrillion human bowel movements and most of them occurred before people had anything to read. These are the kinds of thoughts that kept me from moving quickly up the corporate ladder.

--DEATH ROW--
The story is that if you’re condemned to death they have to give you one last meal of your choice. What is that all about? A group of people plans to kill you, so they want you to eat something you like? Is it a joke? Do they think the food part will take your mind off the dying part? Or do they just prefer to kill you when you’re coming off a peak experience and full of positive energy? I’m not sure what kind of sick game is going on, but what the hell, you might as well play along. Have a little fun; order a Happy Meal. Tell ’em you want to go to Hooter’s and eat on the patio. Inform them you’ve converted to a religion that embraces cannibalism, and you’d like to eat a baby. With a small salad. I just think there’s great potential here for fun and mischief. In fact, I’m thinking that if you worked it just right you might even squeeze a little extra time out of them. Time to file a couple of hundred more frivolous appeals.

Because, as I understand it, they have to give you any meal you ask for. Not including elephant, of course. You can’t expect them to start on a whole new elephant for just one meal. But short of that, they have to give you pretty much what you want. It’s part of the humanity involved: “Let’s kill this fuck, but let’s be civil.” So I say have a little fun; buy some time. When they ask what you want, tell them you can’t decide. That’s all there is to it. You can’t decide. “Gee, I don’t know. I’m not sure if I want steak or lobster. I mean, I really love them both. I haven’t had lobster in quite a while, but on the other hand, I really love chicken. It’s my good luck food. And they’re both rich in protein. I just can’t figure it out.” What can they do? Can they kill you under those circumstances? Can they go ahead and kill you if you honestly don’t know what you want for dinner? Tell them you’re willing to take a lie detector test and truth serum, but you honestly can’t decide. Can they kill you? Can they drag you down the last mile screaming, “Surf? Turf? I’m on the horns of a dilemma!” I think they’d have to give you a little more time. Imagine if you kept it up for six months. Think of the headlines.

CONDEMNED MAN STILL ALIVE, CAN’T DECIDE. LEANS TOWARD LOBSTER. Three years go by. Five. Seven. And then, finally, one morning you wake up, and it’s clear as a bell: “All right, I’ve decided. And I don’t know why I didn’t think of this long ago. I’m going to have the lamb chops.” “All right, lamb chops it is. And how did you want them cooked?” “Geez, I hadn’t thought of that. Lemme see. How do I want them cooked? Listen, guys, can I get back to you?”
HUNGRY MAN EXECUTED. DRAGGED DOWN LAST MILE SCREAMING “MEDIUM!”