In the year 2525, I’ll still be paying off that student loan

Far as I know, history has recorded only one occurrence of someone coming back from the dead and that was over 2,000 years ago. Still, I’m hopeful.

No, I haven’t suddenly gotten more religion than I had yesterday. And I haven’t begun living my life in a manner that would assure I’m assigned to better (and hopefully, cooler) quarters in the afterlife.

I’m talking about living longer in this life. My current body ain’t much, but for the moment, it’s all I’ve got. I’d like to keep it up and running as long as possible. Sadly, present day medical science can only do so much to facilitate that goal.

In short: I’m going to die. Not today. Probably not tomorrow and hopefully not for 30 years or more. I’m actually shooting for 40, but I don’t want to get greedy.

No, wait a minute; yes, I do want to get greedy. I want to get greedy indeedy! I want to live to see that first Martian colony take hold, to see the shocked faces of the staid naysayers when someone finally invents warp drive. I want to see those far-off Utopias dreamt of by H.G. Wells and Thomas More.

I want to live long enough to pay off my student loan.

Until last Friday, I didn’t think I’d have that chance. Now? I’m not so sure.

As with so many pivotal moments in my life, this one occurred at a party. My daughter’s house in Detroit. Bonfire. No shortage of wine, Aubreii’s excellent homemade chili, pizza, and conversation with some of that city’s finest intellects. (At least they seemed that way after a few glasses of Pinot Noir.)

I was introduced to Joseph Kowalsky, director of the Cryonics Institute, in Clinton Township. The mission of the Cryonic Institute – cribbed from their website – is this: “To extend human lifespans by preserving the body using existing cryogenic technologies.”

This isn’t science fiction, folks. This is happening today.

Despite having limited brainpower myself, I do subscribe to a couple science journals, so I was already somewhat familiar with cryogenics. It works like this: when you die, your body is preserved through cryogenic techniques and flash frozen like a TV dinner. I’m guessing it’s slightly more technical in practice.

Point is, you are then stored cryogenically until such time as medical science comes up with a way to revive your corpse-sickle and bring you back to full health.

The cost for this procedure, I learned from Joe, is surprisingly affordable, especially if you plan ahead and pay for it with a life insurance policy. (Which, I’ll admit, appears to have some legal ramifications. I mean, if you’re brought back to life, are you required to repay the life insurance? It could get confusing, but at least you’d be alive to deal with it.)

I really want to do this. But I’ll admit I have a few concerns:

·         First off, I don’t want anyone putting funny hats on my frozen body and snapping selfies with me at Cryonics Institute Christmas parties.

·         What if I’m brought back 1,000 years from now only to serve as a wriggling entrée for humanity’s new, insectoid overlords?

·         I can barely figure out how to program my present-day Tivo system. I can’t imagine how convoluted that task will be in the year 2525.

·         If I don’t pay off that student loan before I go into frozen storage, the late charges accumulated over a few centuries are gonna kill me all over again!

·         What guarantee do I have that someone won’t trip over the plug to the freezer? I don’t want to wake up, still dead, in a puddle of lukewarm water.

But like I said, despite these concerns I’m going to take the plunge. I figure, what have I got to lose? A few bucks spread out over however many years I have left? The chance of winding up as an alien overlord’s menu option?

It’s worth the risk.

So, adieu, suckers! I’ll say hello to your great-grandkids on Mars.

mtaylor325@gmail.com

(616) 730-1414

Can we really afford to lose our Bovinians?

California’s thinking of leaving. So is Oregon and Washington.

They’re calling it the #calexit movement. (On a personal note, I’m old and have no idea what all this “hashtag” baloney is about, nor do I care, but I hate it.)

According to an article I recently read in the Seattle Times, Californians, Oregonians and Washingtonites (or whatever you call ‘em) have decided they want to secede from the Union, learn to speak Canadian and throw in their allegiance with our neighbors to the north.

It has something to do with a recent election. You may have read about it in the papers or seen a comment or two on Facebook. Apparently, there was a last-minute surprise in the vote, one with which not every American is entirely happy.

I’m not sure which states would have wanted to secede had the other candidate won; Mississippi, maybe? But what I don’t know about politics is a lot; maybe I’m being unfair to Mississippians.

Regardless, California, Oregon and Washington all want to boogie out of the U.S. of A.

Nobody’s asked for my opinion on this. To be honest, I’m rarely consulted on these matters. This is probably a good thing, since I have no more idea how government works than does our president-to-be. But I’m wondering if those three westernmost states have considered whether this is something they truly want to do.

Sure, residents in those states voted overwhelmingly for Hillary and – let’s be real – Trump doesn’t exactly exemplify the laid-back West Coast mindset. But c’mon, you guys want to pull up stakes and ditch the United States, after all we’ve meant to each other? After all we’ve been through?

Yeah, I know Canada has great universal health care and they’re moving toward legalizing pot, something California, Oregon and Washington have done already. Also, Canadians are big into combating climate change, just like C., O. and W. (Which, I just realized, spells “COW.” If those three states do actually become a Canadian province, they could call themselves “Bovinites” or “Bovinians,” something cattle-related like that. Just a thought.)

The real question, though, and the one nobody seems to be asking, is this: does Canada really want these states?

I’ve spent a lot of time in Canada, beginning one summer when I was just 16; I rode my bicycle from Windsor to Quebec. On that trip alone I met a lot of Canadians and lemme tell ya, their reputation for being nicer than us is earned. They really are nicer.

They’re polite, helpful, kind. And unlike most of the rest of the world, they don’t hate Americans. Or if they do, they hide it better, which is just as good.

But does that mean Canadians want a bunch of rowdy Americans roaming willy-nilly over their borders, maybe doing to their electoral process what we’ve done to our own?

 And as to those (former) Americans, are they going to blithely relinquish their God-given right to pack heat? There is no Second Amendment in Canada and if there is, I think it has something to do with granting Pentecostal Church members educational rights in Newfoundland – I dunno, the website was confusing and I’m lazy when it comes to research.

Point is, the handgun laws are strict in Canada, at least when compared to our own. How would Bovinians (I’ve decided to go ahead and name the new province now; they can change it later if they like) defend themselves against a rampaging Moose?

But the thing I think most Bovinians would have a hard time adjusting to is this: Canadians must buy their beer in special stores that sell nothing else.

It’s probably just me, but I consider the beer store thing a deal-breaker.

Anyway, I’m hoping the Bovinians decide to stick with us. I’d miss them. I don’t want to have to live without Disneyland or great coffee and grunge music. And whatever it is they make in Oregon.

So my advice to the potential secessionists? Just hang in there for now. I know we’re likely in for a rough go of it for a while, but at least we can buy beer at the grocery. Good thing, too, things being what they are. We’re gonna need ready access to beer.

Maybe this hashtag will help put things in perspective: #nobeerstores!

mtaylor325@gmail.com

(616) 730-1414

When it comes to domestic disputes, 1-million volts can be a life-saver

Should I suddenly turn up missing, I’m hoping the police will consider my wife the prime suspect. Mrs.Taylor (formerly Lori Frankforter) hasn’t actually made any threats against my life. But I’m worried just the same. Because of a catalog that arrived in yesterday’s mail.

It’s from a company I’ve never heard of, because I’ve never been a Navy Seal wannabe. The catalog is filled with stuff – mostly knives of one sort or another – designed to kill someone quickly and quietly.

The remainder of the proffered merchandise includes military-style shovels (to help hide the body, I’m guessing), battery powered short wave radios (to determine when the heat is off and it’s safe to leave your Unabomber cabin in the woods, throwing stars (in case you’re attacked by ninjas) and Coleman lanterns (to light your workspace while making plans to overthrow the government).

There’s also a large assortment of rapiers, cutlasses, sabers, foils, bokkens, hook swords and various other lethal-looking, but cheaply-made blades that look good over the fireplace but are only going to get you shot if you ever try to use one to avoid being mugged.

The catalog even offers “elven blades,” similar to those used in “The Lord of the Rings” movies. I assume these are sold mostly to folks worried about the influx of trolls and orcs sure to swarm over our borders if we don’t get that wall built between here and the Land of Make Believe.

Mrs. T (fLF) has assured me repeatedly she does not intend to murder me, even if I leave my shoes in the middle of the living room floor again. But I’m guessing she said the same thing to her ex-husbands. I’ve never met them. They don’t call, they don’t write. In fact, nobody mentions them at all.

I’m not saying those bumpy spots in the back yard are of anything other than natural origin, but at this point I can hardly be blamed for wondering.

At any rate, I haven’t lived this long by taking a laissez-faire approach when it comes to my own self-preservation. I’m proactive, baby! For better or worse, I value my wide butt and will do whatever it takes to continue my mostly pointless existence.

This includes self-defense, if necessary.

Fortunately, I have a catalog for that. Mrs. T (fLF) isn’t the only one who can arm herself to the teeth one credit card order at a time.

I think my best bet lies in the “1-Million-Volt Stun Gun Cane.” Regular readers of this column (Hi, Dave!) already know I broke my leg about a year ago and the doctor botched the surgery; since then, I walk with a cane.

I was down on the whole cane idea at first. I mean, I’m relatively young (compared to some giant sea turtles). I wasn’t keen on being spotted around town hobbling over a walking stick like some minor character from a Dicken’s novel. However, Mrs. T (fLF) assured me I could “own it” and make the cane seem cool.

She was lying, of course, but for all the right reasons. Point is, I got used to using a cane. I quickly realized that – rather than making me feel frail and old – holding a hefty piece of wood in my hand (no puns, please!) gave me a feeling of invincibility. I have no doubt I could get a lot of self-defense mileage out of even a regular cane if it came down to it.

But armed with the “1-Million-Volt Stun Gun Cane” offered in the catalog? Well, hell, my enemies would be dropping like flies! And probably a few friends, too. The temptation would just be too great.

At $92.99, the “1-Million-Volt Stun Gun Cane” costs double what I’ve paid for any of my other canes (I already have a collection: tres chic). I’m getting it anyway.

Oh, Mrs. T (fLF) is probably telling the truth when she says she won’t kill me if I leave my shoes in the living room. Then again, I’ve seen the look in her eyes. And there’s that catalog. And the lumps in the yard.

What can I say? Better safe than sorry.

mtaylor325@gmail.com

(616) 730-1414