Death Clock

Someone should yank this thing (www.deathclock.com) out of cyberspace. Or at least warn you that staring down the barrel of the grim reaper's sniper rifle is a decidely unpleasant thing to waste ones time on. Of course, I guess I might, if I weren't such a skeptical (my brother says "cynical;" my wife says "negative!"; I say "pragmatic, Sugarplum, simply pragmatic.") person I might take DeathClock's rather pessimistic prognostication for my demise (2018!) more seriously. With a somewhat uncomfortable sensation of the space/time continuum actually shrinking, I tried thinking less pessimistically with regards to my own ability to see the glass as half-full, so to speak, and this netted me another 15 years (2033). A noticable release of tension in the shoulders, combined with a sigh of relief, and, possibly, even the first hint of a primordial smile beginning to tug at my cheek muscles; these uncontrollably positive biological reactions conspired together to actually get me wondering (albeit skeptically) if I might, possibly, have the psychological software to bend my pragmatism a few degrees northward, in the direction of "Optimistic." (Though I seriously doubt it) I gave it a whirl anyway, and was pleasantly surprised to see that (if I were someone else) I might just make it 97! (2057)

Of course, Homo Sapien Sapien being what they are, I'm not altogether convinced there is much incentive to hang around for that long....but that's another issue to grapple with....and my coffee needs warming up right now.

One final thought: This unfortunate brush with mortality, much too early in the morning mind you, opens up a can of worms not easily herded back into their proper place: the unconscious mind. And, for the life of me, I can't fig---

Oh-oh, here comes the gestapo (aka Sugarplum). Time to get back to work.

More on this later,

Marrs