2002-05-28 - 2:52 a.m.

When I die, supine and moldering, above me, and etched in stone, I'd like the headstone to read

He hurt no one.

But I also want something apt on my slab. I'm kinda a liar in life, I guess, but in death, well, it might as well be sincere. So.

He didn't do anything stupid.

That would be nice.

Still, you reap what you sow, according to our buddy Lou, and as I'm outta cigarettes and thus bed-bound but not by choice, maybe I should end this with the best possible and truthful epitaph, about me, that one could etch onto rock:

He was an OK guy.

I can live with that.