Firstly,
let’s get one thing straight: I plan on living forever, infinitely, until the end
of time, until the collapse of reality.
Why shouldn’t I? I’m doing pretty
swell so far…
… But it is better to be safe than sorry.
At least according to my dead Uncle Emmanuel it is. Lot of good that did him, practiced good safety
all his life and then one night he just didn’t wake up. His heart stopped cold. He was only eighty-three years young.
But I do have some demands on the
off chance I do happen to die. I agree that
it is selfish to want things of people after you stop living, but I’m on to something
here. I’m Babe-Ruthing that the next big
fad in social media is DIY online Living Wills.
No lawyers, no bullshit. Just
update as you go. Aunt Debbie pisses you
off? Write her out of the will. She doesn’t deserve any of your…oh wait, a
Passover card….from Aunt Debbie? With a
check for a hundred bucks?
She’s back in the will. That easy.
In the interest
of spear-heading innovative trends in internet memes, submitted for the
approval of the Midnight Society, without further ado, I present unto thee:
The Living Will of Jake Reber
In the
unlikely event of my demise, the first thing you should do is raid my body for
all it’s worth. Donate all the organs, I
sure as Hell won’t need them. All of them,
that is except for my intestines.
My intestines
will be used to make Bass strings, which are to be put on my Upright Bass. I realize that gut strings are traditionally
made from sheep intestine, but after a lifetime of variable bowl consistencies
ranging from highly loose to diamond-hard and pelletine, I’m sure my intestines
will be resilient enough to forge at least a decent ‘G’ or ‘D’ string. Please shoot for the full set, though. I have never heard of anyone performing this
procedure but I can point you towards Germany or Japan as likely willing candidates. No country on Earth is more depraved sexually
or musically than those guys. They’ll
love it.
With my
Bass now strung with Jake-gut strings, I will live forever in my music. I have loved my Bass more than any woman I
have ever known, but just like a woman, if I’m dead I won’t be satisfying
her. So just be sure my bass goes to
someone who will only play it occasionally, if not regularly. The strings are never to be changed, but
every June 4th (my birthday) as well as on the anniversary day of my
death (hopefully the same day as whenever Tom Waits dies). Be sure to get it in the studio to record
with it, so I can be some kind of weirdo posthumous carnie legend in a couple
decades.
If I
slip into a coma, don’t rule out I might return in some convoluted comic-book rebirth. Don’t keep me on the feeding tube. Just pull the plug; I’ll figure something
out. Captain America and Batman both
died from getting shot, but they actually just went back in time and managed to
fight their way out it. Neither of those
guys needed their bodies to do it so I’m not super-worried about it.
Nextly,
never under any circumstance hold up traffic for my death. No funeral procession. The general population need not to be inconvenienced
by some asshole they don’t know/care about dying, and I’m no better than any
other asshole.
Just
burn what’s left of my organ-less body Viking style and put my Bass in casket
if you have a funeral. Be sure to hire a
band to play that will make sure to put the ‘fun’ in ‘funeral.’ And get a keg of New Albanian Elector. Or have it Groucho’s.
I do
not wish to be buried as I will be dead and have little use for a plot of
land. But if you want to make statue of
me, that is fine. Just don’t make it
creepy like those Shriner's statues. A
child and a fez is the worst possible combination of accessories to adorn a
statue with.
Engraved
into the statue will be the following epitaph:
“If only
intelligence was measured by how much obscure music you know...Jake Reber
wouldn't have been such a fucking moron.”-Raanan Hershberg
The
statue will be paid for by auctioning off all my possessions that aren’t my
Bass. If I don’t amass any more wealth
by the time of my death then I don’t mind if it is made of chicken-wire and paper-mâché. Just make sure to pay the artist and tip
well.
Deactivation of my Facebook account
and other online identities will be the responsibility of my next of kin, as I
need not be wasting precious internets with that shit. In case of my return, I will simply create a new
identity of ‘Jacob Thomas Emmanuel Reber, Version 2.0.’ Who knows, I may even add third middle name
if I feel so inclined. Depends on how
many cybernetic components my body has.
And in closing, my final wish is to
have my likeness dressed as Abe Lincoln to replace the actual portrait of Abe
Lincoln on the $5 bill. He can keep the
penny, as well as his $1 coin. Even if I
somehow fulfill my 8th grade superlative award prediction of, “Most
Likely to Become President” and even prove myself to be a good enough one to
merit my own portrait on a bill of currency, just give me the fiver as Abe and
call it a wash.
Enjoy your lives!
Jake Reber
