Leaving the World Like I Found It

Sorry I haven’t been posting with more regularity. My days are busy lately, so I can’t take my leisurely lunch to blog. Tonight, I’ll try a new strategy, which is to blog myself to sleep.

Donkies, donkies everywhere! When I was born, there was three-and-a-quarter of me. I’ve decided that there should be the same when I die, too. I’ll spend the next few years trying to make that happen. The bad news is that, at present, there are fewer me’s than ever before. The good news is that, take heed, I’m making a comeback.

Let me explain. They say that parents and children share 50% common genetic matter. (Btw, if my science is off, please, someone with better than a high school science education, correct me.) So, I’m a full “me.” My parents, each being a half-me, together make up another full me. Siblings share 25% genetic matter (I think), so my brother is a quarter-me. My grandparents are also quarter-me’s. When I was born, I had 2 parents, 4 grandparents, one brother, and, of course, myself for a total of 3.25 me’s. This is what we’re shooting for on the back end.

Unfortunately, but as with life, I’ve lost 2 grandparents due to old age. So, I’m at an all time low with only 2.75 me’s. Btw, we’re only going vertically up the family tree. I could go sideways and count cousins, but the math gets tough, especially since I have so many friggin cousins. For the same reason, I won’t bother with fractions less than .25 either. Anyway, during the first quarter of my life, we’ve seen me-ness drop from 3.25 to 2.75. Oh the humanity!

If I take inventory again at another quarter-century, how many me’s will there be? Let’s assume that my parents are still around, but that their parents are not. That’s one me. My brother makes 1.25. I’m rocking my 50th Birthday Bash, hosted by Dick Clark and Mario Lopez, so that makes 2.25. And with me are my 3 kids, who all tragically resemble their father. I’ve always planned only to have 2, but let’s assume that one more slips by the defense for a touchdown. Each rugrat, multiplied at a rate of .5, would yield another 1.5 me’s, for a grand total of 3.75 me’s. Score!

What about at 75? It would be fair to assume that my parents have moved on. My brother, who now only eats pudding, and I are barely holding on. That’s 1.25. My three kids have miraculously survived my attempt at rearing, making it 2.75. (I think my diaper needs-a-changin. Nurse!) They each have their own kids. My three kiddies have made me the proud grandpa of 5 grandkids, or another me-and-a-quarter. I call all the girls “Sweetpea” and the boys “Armando.” Everyone will think it’s because I’m too old to remember their real names, but it’s really because I think their real names suck. And the fact that I give everyone a 3-pack of extra large tighty-whities is another private joke I have with myself every Christmas. Anyway, in my third quarter, I reach an all-time high of 4 me’s. FOUR FRIGGIN MES!! This period will later be referred to by historians as the Second Dark Age. Ah, those sarcastic historians, never cared much for them anyhow!

What about at 100? I’m dead. My ashes have been catapulted, as per my request, across the continent from San Francisco toward the Atlantic Ocean. But when the flying urn collided with a Canada goose in mid-flight, I landed in Trenton, New Jersey, where I will spend the rest of eternity. My 3 kids are still knocking around, if barely. Here's where I'll need a little luck. My youngest daugher, who I had locked in a closet until now to keep her away from boys, will need to undergo some fertility treatment in order to conceive her first child, Donkey Boy III. Lightening strikes and she ends up with twins, Donkey Boy IIIa and IIIb, pushing the grand total to 7 grand kids, all told. Hence, when I die, just like when I was born, the world has 3.25 me’s. Ah, the beauty of symmetry! Life is poetry! Jersey smells.