--THE GOOD BREAD--
When you make a sandwich at home, do you reach down past the first few slices to get the really good bread? It’s a survival thing: “Let my family eat the rotten bread. I’ll take care of Numero Uno.” And sometimes the issue isn’t freshness but the size of the slice you’re after. Everyone knows the wider ones are somewhere near the middle. So down you go past about six inferior slices to reach the ones you want. And, as you pull them up, you have to be careful they don’t tear. Then, just before you get them out, the top six slices shift position and fall perpendicular to the rest of the loaf.
“Shit!” I leave them that way. Let the family think a burglar made a sandwich.
--DYING TO STAY ALIVE--
.You’re all going to die. I hate to remind you, but it is on your schedule. It probably won’t happen when you’d like; generally, it’s an inconvenience. For instance, you might have your stamp collection spread out on the dining room table. [Ominous music] “Now?” “Now.” “May I at least put away my commemoratives?”
“No.” Inconvenient. Nobody wants to die. Nobody. Well, maybe Evel Knievel, but most other people don’t like the idea. It doesn’t seem like an enjoyable thing. People figure if being sick is no fun, dying must really be a bother. After all, part of the pleasure of being alive is the knowledge that you’re not dead yet. And when you get right down to it, people don’t mind being dead, it’s getting dead that bothers them. No one wants to get dead. But we’re all gonna do it. Death is one of the few things that are truly democratic—everybody gets it once. But only once. That’s what makes us nervous. No rehearsals.
--THE GOOD BREAD--When you make a sandwich at home, do you reach down past the first few slices to get the really good bread? It’s a survival thing: “Let my family eat the rotten bread. I’ll take care of Numero Uno.” And sometimes the issue isn’t freshness but the size of the slice you’re after. Everyone knows the wider ones are somewhere near the middle. So down you go past about six inferior slices to reach the ones you want. And, as you pull them up, you have to be careful they don’t tear. Then, just before you get them out, the top six slices shift position and fall perpendicular to the rest of the loaf.
“Shit!” I leave them that way. Let the family think a burglar made a sandwich.
--DYING TO STAY ALIVE--
.You’re all going to die. I hate to remind you, but it is on your schedule. It probably won’t happen when you’d like; generally, it’s an inconvenience. For instance, you might have your stamp collection spread out on the dining room table. [Ominous music] “Now?” “Now.” “May I at least put away my commemoratives?”
“No.” Inconvenient. Nobody wants to die. Nobody. Well, maybe Evel Knievel, but most other people don’t like the idea. It doesn’t seem like an enjoyable thing. People figure if being sick is no fun, dying must really be a bother. After all, part of the pleasure of being alive is the knowledge that you’re not dead yet. And when you get right down to it, people don’t mind being dead, it’s getting dead that bothers them. No one wants to get dead. But we’re all gonna do it. Death is one of the few things that are truly democratic—everybody gets it once. But only once. That’s what makes us nervous. No rehearsals.