You know, I actually promised myself tonight that I wasn’t going to take a picture of the sunset. But in the end I couldn’t resist. It looked too much like a sunset painted by this guy, and I knew none of you would believe me unless I actually went out and snapped a photo of it. So here we are.
Hunter S. Thompson is in those fireworks. His ashes, anyway (and if they weren’t entirely ashes before, they are now). Damn, that’s an awesome way to go.
I personally intend to be cremated, since weighing my survivors down with thousands of dollars of wholly unnecessary funeral expenses is not really the way I wish to be remembered. Then I want my ashes formed into the shape of a garden gnome, the kind that ironic hipsters steal and then send all over the world, photographing each place they go to and sending pictures back to the owner (which I assume would be someone I know). I think that would be fairly amusing.