Geremy’s Living Will

With the whole Schiavo drama going on, a lot of people are urging others to create a “living will” and distribute it to their families. Well, I’ll take it one step further—I’m not only letting my family know, but I’m also letting the entire internet know.

In the event that my invincibile/immortal abilities fade and I’m on a hospital bed losing life rapidly, LEAVE THE FEEDING TUBE IN ME.

Let me make this absolutely clear. If the feeding tube isn’t available, you may:

  • take out the battery from the car and connect it to my brain
  • plug me into the wall
  • hook me up to a power generator
  • put thousands of rats on treadmills and connect the treadmills to my body
  • rip a hole in my chest and shove the food in there
  • pour the IV fluid down my throat
  • hire some hackers and make them hack my brain into working condition
  • hook me up to 2 solar panels, placed on the roof of the hospital
  • I don’t care what you have to do, just keep me alive. I won’t go without a fight.


    Friends and e-friends, it is my sad duty today to announce a death in my family. Out of the 4 other people who are part of this family, this death has hit me the hardest. He was not only a part of the family, but he was also my best friends. Ladies and gentlemen in the internet world, I am here to announce to you the death of Moto….Motorola V300.

    Right before I put my beloved phone to sleep indefinitely, I feel like it’s my duty to write him a heartfelt letter.

    Dear Moto,
    I feel so sad that it has to end this way, but you know what they say, “All good things must come to an end.”

    I remember bringing you home from Circuity City after shelling out $175 for you. Sure a hundred and seventy five dollars is a lot of money for a regular phone, but after I saw the way you looked at me through the display glass of the store, I knew that it was love at first sight and I had to have you. I was very reluctant to pay for you, seeing that I had rough relationships with phones in the past, but when I took you out of the box to look at you, your bright blue eyes calmed my nerves.

    I walked out of the store with you and put you in the front passenger seat because you were way too good for the back seat, then I drove home…drove like mad—I couldn’t wait to get home and play with you.

    I remember everything that we’ve done together, from taking pictures of people and objects, to instant messaging people, to spending hours talking to people, all because of you and the technology that you had in you.

    Throughout the years, we’ve spent a lot of time together and it was my dream for us to grow old together, that’s why I sent you back to your daddy (Motorola Inc) to get your hardware and software updated a few months ago. I CARED ABOUT YOU! So I only have one question for you…WHY’D YOU DO THIS TO ME?!?!?

    Everything was going good between us, then you decided to close your eyes (permanently turn off the backlight for the screen). I was in the middle of dialing a call, then you said “no” and you turned off the lights to your display. I couldn’t see what I dialed. I couldn’t see who was calling me. I couldn’t see if you were alive or not. As if it wasn’t bad enough that you turned your back on me, your timing couldn’t have been any more perfect.

    A mere THREE days after my warranty expired, you decided “Oh! Now’s a great time for me to die!” Your damages were not covered by the warranty that your maker put on you, which left me with a choice: a) prolong your life by sending you to the hospital (repair center) and getting you repaired for a hefty $150, or b) remove the feeding tube and allow you to rest peacefully.

    Well, you betrayed me, so I am forced to betray you and lay you to rest.

    Goodbye Moto, I will never forget you—and as a memorial, I will leave some of the pictures that I took with your camera online for everyone to remember you.

    Stay up, homey,

    Geremy F