w1che
September 30th, 2000, 12:32 AM
A True story, Please get your hanky out NOW<<
Hello, My name is Goober Bardow and part of me lives in Waco Texas.
In 1988, anticipating my imminent demise and wishing to go to the grave looking sharp, I took the precaution of having myself mummified. My major organs were carefully removed by eminent Egyptian physicians and stored in special alabaster jars. (Except for my spleen, whose jar was knocked over and subsequently consumed by field-mice, and my brain, which I still need.)
The only problem is, I have lived far longer than anticipated, and have, as a result, had to endure years of weekly embalming sessions just to keep up the facade. I am normally very cooperative with the embalmers, except when they attempt to remove my brains through my nostrils with an elongated hook. But, with my hollow chest cavity replenished weekly with preserving spices and emollients, and my withered skin slathered with a rare, fragrant oil from the Orient, I am secure in the knowledge that the embalmers generally know what they are doing, and I try not to get in their way.
My mausoleum, too, is being prepared for my expiration. Artisans are at work painstakingly hand-carving a sarcophagus of solid gold, and labor daily on elaborate wall frescoes depicting key events in my life. Crate-loads of solid-gold tubes and catheters, cod-liver oil, and a platinum-coated iron lung have been placed in my burial-chamber as well.
There is, however, a slight wrinkle in the funeral plans. When I pass on, naturally, a few dozen of my loyal servants will be buried alive with me so that they may serve me in the after-life. But there is no way that I will permit that hideous metallic robot nurse of mine to eternally insert thermometers up my rectum! I will simply have to find another nurse. But whom? Certainly not my previous one, the foul traitoress who up and left me without notice!
Now I live in cold fear, not of my actual demise, but that I shall die, and that they will ship that evil mechanical robot down to my burial chamber to forever stare at me with its menacing red eyes!
Please pass this on to as many friends as you may have. "I'm sure some of you don't have any, but if you do pass it on."
For every email over 500,000 Bill Gates said he would program me one more year of life. I need more time to find a good nurse.
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When I'm done... You'll know it!!
Hello, My name is Goober Bardow and part of me lives in Waco Texas.
In 1988, anticipating my imminent demise and wishing to go to the grave looking sharp, I took the precaution of having myself mummified. My major organs were carefully removed by eminent Egyptian physicians and stored in special alabaster jars. (Except for my spleen, whose jar was knocked over and subsequently consumed by field-mice, and my brain, which I still need.)
The only problem is, I have lived far longer than anticipated, and have, as a result, had to endure years of weekly embalming sessions just to keep up the facade. I am normally very cooperative with the embalmers, except when they attempt to remove my brains through my nostrils with an elongated hook. But, with my hollow chest cavity replenished weekly with preserving spices and emollients, and my withered skin slathered with a rare, fragrant oil from the Orient, I am secure in the knowledge that the embalmers generally know what they are doing, and I try not to get in their way.
My mausoleum, too, is being prepared for my expiration. Artisans are at work painstakingly hand-carving a sarcophagus of solid gold, and labor daily on elaborate wall frescoes depicting key events in my life. Crate-loads of solid-gold tubes and catheters, cod-liver oil, and a platinum-coated iron lung have been placed in my burial-chamber as well.
There is, however, a slight wrinkle in the funeral plans. When I pass on, naturally, a few dozen of my loyal servants will be buried alive with me so that they may serve me in the after-life. But there is no way that I will permit that hideous metallic robot nurse of mine to eternally insert thermometers up my rectum! I will simply have to find another nurse. But whom? Certainly not my previous one, the foul traitoress who up and left me without notice!
Now I live in cold fear, not of my actual demise, but that I shall die, and that they will ship that evil mechanical robot down to my burial chamber to forever stare at me with its menacing red eyes!
Please pass this on to as many friends as you may have. "I'm sure some of you don't have any, but if you do pass it on."
For every email over 500,000 Bill Gates said he would program me one more year of life. I need more time to find a good nurse.
------------------
When I'm done... You'll know it!!