Death is not the issue the issue is the erasure of all awareness and memory like stepping on an insect squish squash he was taking a bath must have been a Saturday night the insect doesnt suddenly wake up in insect heaven surrounded by other insects reminiscing about their crawling life chewing the fat so to speak which would be problematic since many insects eat other so you got this situation where one insect says to another how did you end up here Bugsy to which Bugsy replies you ate me you slimeball which of course insect one doesnt recall well whatever he says here we are or are we here because according to the mug writing this rubbish theres no insect heaven to which a chorus of insects pipes up what the fux he know did he ever crawl in our slime or see a ladybug make love or a praying mantis fold its arms in prayer oh no no no all he can say is insects are snuffed out all awareness and memories erased as it is with humans an outcome that is harder on the survivors than the deceased referring to humans now never having seen an insect funeral he says so stupidly or any signs of bereavement in the insect world what a jerk my my my all he can say is death is harder on survivors since the deceased have ceased to exist as noted in the word itself and now know naught living on only in the minds and memories of the living the dead are dead to all that went before lives erased as though they never existed the bitter anticlimax of lives while lived may have been joyful and wonderful and awful and woeful but in the end it doesnt amount to a hill of dung beetles dung because death cancels everything poof squish whatever death is the ultimate cancel culture hahahaha its so funny no existence no awareness before birth then a short life hey lookit even eighty years is the blink of a cosmic eye and then squish squash taking a bath blah blah blah sensation cessation all stop no awareness no memories hahaha if you dont think thats funny then dont bother watching the Three Stooges tonight.
From K., an old friend in Australia, a poignant essay on life and death in the universe:
We are the first in history to know the vast extent of ‘creation.’
First it was castles and kings, four seasons, church on Sunday. Then the book of Job(s)!
The tiny electrons and virus’s spell the end of us, end of evolution as we tinker with DNA.
Yesterday I had left a bucket of water by our leaking rain tank, and overnight a small (2cm) six leg animal had fallen onto the surface of the water, and spread itself to stay on the surface.
Being a nocturnal creature, when the sun came up he/she (unused to light) was literally crucified as the sun rose to the heat of day.
I took the body out of the bucket and lay it on the ground and ants devoured its life fluids. I felt terrible, as I had set the scene, so to speak.
Galaxies, small animals and God, and us, we strut and sway our time on Earth.