Advice To My Children In The Event Of My Death
Floss, when no one is looking. Seriously. Sometimes those chunks go flying.
Dance, when no one is looking. Then, if no one was looking, videotape it, upload it onto youtube, use the ensuing traffic to establish a platform from which you can leverage yourself into a six-figure deal for a reality show based on your dancing at which no one was looking.
Live in Northern California, at least for a while, because we that’s where our house is, so economically that makes sense. But then move out before you become a slacker or hear your mom and dad having sex. Because that would be gross.
Live in New York in the late 1990s, because at least rent was sort of affordable then and that new-fangled “Internet” was giving jobs to every shnook who knew how to turn on a computer. Don’t bother trying to live in NYC now. It’s crazy expensive and all the interesting stores have been replaced by bank branches.
Wear sunscreen. Then take it off because apparently sunscreen causes cancer. Then put it back on because apparently sun-cancer is worse than sunscreen-cancer. Then take it off again, because a new study came out. On, off, on, off. Finally, give up and go inside and watch TV. There are some really good shows on nowadays.
Enjoy your body. But not on the subway or in other public places. You can get arrested for that.
When you are sitting under a tree with your loved ones, drinking lemonade on a sunny day, remember to say, “This is nice, isn’t it?” Because the Earth is getting hotter, so in a few years, that tree will wither and die, one lemon will cost $5, and the permanent heatwaves will make it too hot to sit outside in any comfort. Then remember to say to your grandkids, “It was nice back then. Sorry.”