Monday, March 06, 2006

And Now, Michael Appleby Answers Some Hypothetical Questions...

I have a few books from the If series. The premise of these books is to just ask a bunch of hypothetical questions if, when read alone, will lead you down a path of self-discovery (or some kind of bullshit like that) or, if read in groups, should spark a heated debate that will either end in heated fist fights or copious amounts of jizz stains. So anyway, when I feel like the creative well is dry, which it seems to be of late, I'll flip through the books I have and see if I can find a few questions to answer for you people. Feel free to debate me (though you would probably be wrong) in the comments.

Q: If you could decide what will be written on your gravestone, what would you have inscribed?

I should hope that when I die I will still be viewed as a sort of outside-the-box kind of thinker. That being said I would like something simple, yet profound. Hmmmmm...how about something like No Refunds? Yeah, that seems pretty cool. If I have a lot of fans of my work when I die I'm sure that one or two of them might make some sort of pilgramage to the old eternal resting place and if they saw No Refunds they might say something like, "Dude! That is so, like, thought-provoking! I mean, quick, like hand me the water bong for a second, I want to take a great big hit and then just try to wrap my head around that no refunds comment." Of course, my fans will likely be hippy-dippy stoner types. However, I am a bit of a joker, so maybe if my epitaph read, Post No Bills my rotting, maggot-infested corpse can laugh in the afterlife for years.

Q: If you were elected to be the leader of the United States tomorrow, what would be your first act?"

I think that my first act as president would be to make a formal apology to the international community for the foreign policy of the past number of years and promise to repair as much of the damage that has been done as is humanly possible.

Q: If you could pick one famous person to be your neighbor, who would you have next door to you?

There are a number of famous people I would love to live next door to. Certainly names like Maynard James Keenan, Gordon Downie, and David Cross come to mind with just a minimal amount of thinking. But the name that sprang into my mind immediately after reading this question was Chuck Palahniuk. It would be great to live next door to somebody who could talk shop with me as a writer, you know, give me advice and inspire me. Stuff like that for writers is invaluable.

Q: If you were going to turn to crime to support yourself from now on, what kind of criminal would you become?

A politician of some sort. If, though, we take into consideration that I would try to be a more diplomatic, more honest president from the question about being the president, I suppose I can't say that politics would be my choice for criminal activity. Since politics is now ruled out I suppose that I would sell marijuana because it's quite possibly the least morally reprehensible crime I can think of since pot should be decriminalized and/or legalized on the basis that, as a drug, marijuana kills far, far, far fewer people than alcohol or tobacco. I have a heavy conscience so selling pot would be something I could justify to myself.


Q: If you had to describe the single worst thing a friend could do to you, what would it be?

This is kind of a weak question I know. I mean, how do you descibe being kicked in the testicles repeatedly? Sure, it's easy to say, "Kick me in the balls repeatedly," and you can picture the repeated kicking and possibly me hunched over and in pain, but how do you really "describe" the pain of it? It's probably the worst thing that anybody could do to me, not just my friends.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

I know it's cliche, but on my gravestone I'd like to have the first verse of Cohen's "Bird on the Wire":

like a bird on a wire
like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way
to be free

Anonymous said...

In order to keep my enemies from finding me and placing a voodoo curse on my body, my tombstone will read "Here lies Emilo Sanchez - 1936-1997".