Sorry to be the bearer of bad news but ... we are all going to die.

Yup, that is right, everyone is bound to kick the bucket, throw in the towel, push up some daisies from six feet under after biting the dust. It is that old cliché, there are only two things that are guaranteed in life: death and taxes.

By the looks of one of my year-end pay stubs, I am welcoming death to my doorstep. If a college graduate with both a full-time and part-time job could qualify for subsidized housing from their “take home income” but not their “gross income” — this has to be some kind of hell. If Mr. Joe Black comes a-knocking, I’ll allow him in and offer him a drink. I am in purgatory already.

I can see it now. The e-mails will be laced with, “But Lowellita, it’s the holidays” and, “Aren’t you supposed to be funny? Death is not a joke.”

Yes it is. And in my opinion, I am hilarious.

This December the grim reaper is making more media appearances than Santa Claus. Maybe he should replace his sickle with some bells, and make red his signature color instead of black. Although, black is more flattering, but I don’t think he is looking to make friends. If he was smart he would. He could fetch $15 a picture at any mall if he was merry instead of morbid. Americans favor thin people verse the morbidly obese, so Senor Reaper should make a killing.

Ha. I told you I was hilarious. And these days, death is a joke.

There are nightly news reports, magazine articles and talk shows that outline all the ways we are heading for eminent doom. Global warming, the 2008 election, fundamentalism and The Golden Compass, somehow all of these things are going to cause our demise.

Nothing is safe. Even toys — they’re poisonous — don’t give them to your kids. They will die.
Well, I have not yet, neither has my mother or my great aunt who is turning 80 next year. We all had Barbies and chewed on a few pink plastic high heels in our childhood. We all rode bikes without helmets, knee and elbow pads. We pricked our finger tips with tacks in order to initiate ourselves as “blood brothers” with our childhood friends.

Still here, maybe missing a few screws, but we made it. No lead poisoning, no missing limbs and no Hepatitis.

And school buses. Has anyone gotten stuck behind one lately? Since when do they stop at the end of every street? And if the parent drives them to the stop, let’s them sit on their heated seats as they wait, then why can’t they just drive them to school?

I can’t help but wonder if future generations would be better off getting sucked into a giant whirlpool as the polar ice cap melts from the greenhouse effect. It is our own fault, we are coddling the world leaders of the future. What happens when they don’t have a mommy or daddy to tell them, “Don’t touch that” or “Leave that alone”?

I forgot, we already have many of them in Washington today.

I told you I was hilarious. Oh and by the way, sorry to tell you but you are going to die.

Anyone agree? E-mail lowellita@lowellsun.com.