The Real Five Stages of Dying

I'm sure Kubler-Ross is a nice person and all, but I really think that she might be a little needier than (even) me.  So, I don't buy her "Stages of Death" model.  As I turn 50, I wanted to share my updated and, frankly, better stages.  So, I did this because I read the stages and thought, "How does SHE know?  All the people who went through this are dead."  So, I think mine are more fun, even if I don't get feedback.

Kubler-Ross says Denial.  I say Playlist,
C;mon.  Denial?  Really?  Maybe for 30 minutes until your next transplant.  Let's class this up, people.  My mother is NOWHERE close to death and she has been working on her memorial playlist for years.  I think it's important, too.  What you want:  memorable.  What you don't want:  memorable in a bad way.  One of the best humans I ever knew did not have a playlist and got that most abhorred organ shyte the funeral home has on the ready.

Suggestions (because I am, after all, here for you):  "It's Getting Hot in Here" (for a cremation, obviously).  This is my partner's pick - hilarious. My mom picks "Entrance of the Gods to Valhalla." Now, see, you can't eulogize over it and you can't dance to it.  So, I say it's not a good pick, but it fits her.  I am, picking an open bar with Carl Stalling's "Marching Pink Elephants" He wrote all the soundtracks for Looney Tunes and many other cartoons.  It just fits.  It's a good time.  People will not forget that.

Kubler-Ross says Anger.  I say Shopping.
I do not contend that you are going to be rational, when facing death.  I understand you might be angry, but what to do with that anger?  Shop.  You don't have to do conventional shopping - leave the produce aisle and do it my way. You know it'll be better.

Shop for things you could never afford.  Go to a black-market pet dealer and shop for jaguars.  Go to the actual Jaguar dealer and shop for jaguars.  There ya go - thematic and fun.  Shop for that $1500 hamburger in New York  - "I just want a bite before I commit."  Go to Hamburg, for Christ's sake and shop for burgers.   What do you care what your credit card balance will be?  Just make sure you're really dying.  It would be a drag to have to deal with that debt AND not be dying. You'd wanna kill yourself and that is not good golf.

Kubler-Ross says Bargaining.  I say Bad Investments.
For some reason, people listen to dying people.  They think that, since they are closer to death, they are closer to God or whatever.  So, let's have a little fun with this.  Take a look at "Map of the Market" and pick some random stocks to sell.  Heck.  Make a little money off it by partnering with a broker.  Your survivors will be thankful.  Who cares if people hate you after this?  This will help them detach, easier.

If this doesn't feel right to you, then use your dying powers to convince people to buy outfits that will amuse you...which is like bargaining, but more fun (and could be considered a bad investment - so K-R and I are both right).

Kubler-Ross says Depression.  I say Naughty Stuff
You could be depressed or you could perfect some weird-ass sex move.  Your choice - not really, I'm telling you to do the naughty thing.  Look up "weird sex move,"  pick one from the many, many that will come up and just go to it,  You'll be distracted trying to put your whatever in your whatever and your partner will feel better about you, too.  Then, you won't feel guilty asking for that extra sponge bath.

Kubler-Ross says Acceptance.  I say Pudding and Go-Karts.
Supposedly, you get all peaceful-like and accept your death.  F that.  Go big.  Eat pudding.  All the pudding you want.  It's just like mother's-milk (only with tapioca starch and chocolate  or some flavor).  Sleep in it, I say.  Accept THAT, Friends.  I sleep in pudding and you won't tell me "no" because I'm dying.  Such power.  Ok, so then, when you're all junked up on creamy wonder, go go-karting.  Be the leader of that parade.  Go fast.  Go dangerous. If you do die in a crash - win for your family in the lawsuit.  Even if they lost the suit, what a great story.  "'Member when Mom died in a go-kart crash?"

Which leads me to the last thing:  if you are going to die of something ordinary, don't.   Make your family and friends swear to tell everyone you died fighting off the jaguar you bought or as a geyser inspector.  Have fun out there and die classy, kids.