It’s come to my attention that perhaps I’ve been a bit naive. You see, I just assumed that everyone had my extraordinary gift. I was living life under the false pretense that my situation really was not at all unique. As it turns out, though, I am the only immortal on planet Earth. Sorry.
Sure, some of you might think that it’s a curse knowing that I will outlive everyone who ever exists. You’d be wrong though. See, I’m what doctors have called “extremely selfish” and therefore, “only care about myself.” It’s actually quite a benefit when you’re the only one who will be around forever and ever.
Sure, watching everyone I love and care about die while I sip a Big Gulp cup filled with Jack Daniel’s and just a splash of Diet Coke (trying to lose weight; no one wants a fat immortal) will be rough at first. My overwhelming sense of relief over it not being me being laid into the ground should help me through any feelings of sadness or loss.
When I was younger, I’d use my immortality to get laid. It’s amazing what a pussy-magnet not dying is. I’d go to singles bars like “Hog Heaven” or “Salami Central” and just walk up to every woman and tell her, “Hey Babe, I’m immortal. Ever wanted to blow a guy who can’t die?” Sure, I’d get slapped across the face, a lot, but every now and then, they’d just throw a drink on me and walk away.
Anyway, the point of this letter was just to clear the air. I really do wish more of you were incapable of dying. It’s a lot of pressure, knowing you’re the only Immortal Soul on the planet, and therefore having every answer to life’s questions. I soldier on though, because I’m really strong.
Okay, well, I gotta go. But if you have anything you want me to tell your great-great-grand kids, shoot me an email or a Tweet or a text.
Take It Easy,
James
Jack Kevorkian’s death has had a much larger effect than I anticipated…sheesh….