Yankee Pravda

I do not recommend that anybody take their own life, but empathize with varieties of anguish which compel it. Still, your insoluble despair is no reason to put another person in a sad mood. Au contraire, leave them laughing, your funniest rictus grin etched forever in their beholding eye. In short, do it in style. By all means, peruse the below lexicon of alternatives to the inconsiderate grotesquery of blowing one’s brains all over the parlor walls with a shotgun:


Auto-exhaust from your Bentley
Will deliver a rosy skinned corpse.
Take a long trip in your closed garage
but buckle up first, of course.

Bungee jumping with a tattered cord
will make you a viral video smash.
Be sure your life insurance is paid
leave your young widow with plenty of cash.

Cops will give you a newsworthy death
When you flash your realistic toy gun.
Simply crouch and point it. Scream “Die, Copper Scum!”
Wave it wildly, spring and lunge.

Defenestration can be public service
if done from a high enough story.
Storm right into your agent’s office
and toss him out before ye.

Exposure to the numbing cold
will end your mood ‘o’ doom.
Hide until the market closes,
then stretch out in frozen foods.

Flaming Buddhists self-immolate
to protest unjust laws.
Drench yourself with Courvoisier
and flambé for your favorite cause.

Gangstas of commercial persuasion
will pop you for a price.
Tell ’em you want ‘em to drop you fast
You’ll be gone like Vanilla Ice.

Hanging by the neck until you’re dead
Will soil your Armani britches
Hang yourself by your feet instead
And spit up for them bitches.

Invocation of Great Satan
Oft’ lays the bold caller to waste.
Why not conjure Martha Stewart?
Show a little taste.

Jurists in your homicide case
Will prescribe a lethal injection.
Be sure their needle’s clean and safe
or you might get infection.

Knives across the wrists and such
Smack of adolescent cliché.
Why not Hari-Kari on Halloween
In your wife’s sexy lingerie?

Lovers’ pacts of suicide
transcend the world through passion
To die intertwined as one climactic soul
Will always be the height of fashion.

Marijuana suicide
requires a ton of smoke
Should it fail to kill you quickly
At least you’re trying, bloke.

Nobility, grace and courtesy
Have been sadly forgotten.
Summon gang-bangers to your bottom
Have them sink you to Old Sodom.

Overdose Final Exit-style.
First, gather your supplies;
Then book your suite at Disney World
Won’t Mickey be surprised?

Protracted civil law suit v. a corporate defendant
will drain the lifeblood from a giant and all of his dependents
One caveat I am compelled to mention: Such litigious suicide
May take a score of years or more to reify.

Quixotic nuptials will kill the old fool
that buys Beauty’s bed, but dies at stool.
“Tis a far better thing than ere did he pass,”
Sobs his nouveaux riche widow, smacking his ass.

Run ye amok midst the Bilderberg set,
Giggling at each rubbed-out banker.
Or smarter yet, try flying amok,
Tossing out Bushes on the wankers.

Sexual exhaustion can end life’s pain
If not turned into a true love game.
Doctors advise that your health may improve,
should you use a live dolly that actually moves.

The lubricious harlot will take care of your ending.
Once you’ve accustomed her to unbridled spending,
Cut her off coldly. Go deaf to her raves.
She’ll not only kill you, she’ll piss on your grave.

Undying devotion to a psychopath groom
whose sperm goes zygotic in your womb,
create a threat to his flamboyance and
gets you both killed for such vulgar annoyance.

Voodoo dolls can be quite effective
If you happen to be a mental detective
that can’t separate fiction from your own fact
You can scare up your own heart attack.

Wages of sin will be tendered in hot lead
When underage daughters are found in your bed
In tangles of tribidism directed by you
Unauthorized tweeny-porn kills more than a few.

X2 [squared] is funereal jargon for
Routing a mourning man’s “goodbye world” hardon
Into the cold grip of his dead lover’s night
And into his own, a stick of lit dynamite.

Young crack-smokers’ bristling nation
Will whisk you briskly to your destination
Check into the House of King Crack, go bananas with rock
Until a week inside the urban jungle your crystal coffin locks.

Zenophobes are a most inhospitable lot
Especially to faces of races they’re not.
Be the Yankee of Yemens as In’jil [Satan] commands thee, and
Your parts will part ways and rest mummified in sand.

I appeal to readers to test as many of these show-stopping finales as they can. Please report the results to me in care of this publication, or have your next of kin notify. I am particularly interested in how they are received by family, friends, fanclubs, and morticians. I pledge personally to shed this Veil of Tears by performing the highest-rated of the lot, at a great shopping mall, and do the deadly deed on live TV–once I reach the age of 120, and life begins to lose its zest.
T.G. 3 Jan 2017


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