WordPress recently asked something like What would you do if you knew you were going to live forever?
- Cancel my life insurance policies.
- No, keep them, and fake my death. If it works I’ll get money, if I get caught I’ll get ten years in jail, where I could learn new skills like carpentry and mailbag-sewing.
- Keep all my old clothes. Elephant flares will be back you know, probably seven or eight hundred times.
- Fancy Grannymar even more than I do now (we‘ve danced together, you know, it‘s on the internet).
- Get rid of my TV. An eternity of watching re-runs of Friends would feel like an eternity.
- Keep drinking, and maybe even take up smoking again. Why not?
- Hope that the possible side-effect of the Molly Paxon drug mentioned eight or nine posts ago doesn’t actually manifest itself. There are permanent erections, and then there are permanent erections.
- Buy a first edition of some book that comes out this weekend. It’ll be worth a million quid at some time in the future.
- Tell Chuck Norris he’s a wuss, knowing he can’t kill me (I would run after I’d said it though, he could still hurt me very badly).
- Change my definition of “young person” to anyone under the age of 874.
- Panic at how I’m going to keep thinking of blogpost topics (I could of course, re-cycle them every hundred years or so).
- Invent a program to cure the Y3K bug (yes, I’m shite at computers, but I‘ll have taken a course while in jail).
- Turn up at time capsule openings to help explain the contents. “It was called a microwave, yes, you put food in it and bombarded it with radiation, I know, daft, wasn’t it.”
- Given that the average height of a human increases by three inches every hundred years, learn to accept the fact that one day I’ll be shorter than two-year-olds.
- Angrily calculate how much tax I’ll pay in all that time, and then balance that by working out how much it will cost the state to change my pacemaker battery every eight years forever.
- Buy the box-set of Lost. Then throw it away. It’d be something to do.