"And the colored girls go do d do d do do d do....."

Because all the junk in the tabloids lately, I know my loyal minions (dat be you), are thinking: 'Dan, God forbid you shall pass any time soon, but if you do, where should we bury you? Texas, or the Bahamas?'
Neither, my children, neither. I want my passing to be a celebration of my extraordinary life. I know it hasn't been extraordinary yet, but it will be you just watch. Anyway, no tears. Cremate me and pack me in your bong. You know you all have one. Stoners. You're probably stoned right now, aren't you. Stoners. The rest of me needs to be sprinkled on a Carl's pizza or a large Chubby's chili fries. I'll let you decide which.
There needs to be jugglers and fire eaters. I want pony rides and a fat bearded lady, preferably not my college girlfriend, she was too much of a freak. I want taro readers and psychics who can talk to me and ask how the wake is going. Belly dancers and poodles dressed in tutus. I want a stripper to box a kangaroo. Maybe a donkey show (after the kids leave of course). I want a Japanese Barber shop quartet singing commercial jingles. A sword swallower and someone to make balloon animals. Maybe Vanessa, she's getting pretty good. And to steal a line from Moya (the Tonga kid) who probably stole it from someone else, 'my wife gets to give my eulogy, then the guests get ten minutes for rebuttal'.
This might seem like a morbid thing to write about, but the last thing my family and friends need is to have confusion and fighting when I'm gone. Plus the Caribbean is too crowded this time of year.