The Final Decision: Why Suicide Is A Croc

There are more ways to snuff yourself than there are zits on a teenager's pockmarked face, you have the standard methods: pills, gas, razor, gun and noose. Two months ago, the latter was chosen by the otherworldly comic genius, Robin Williams, to vacate this universe.

If you opt for suicide, it's the final decision you'll ever make. Speaking for myself, what drives me, or more to the point, what nags at my soul, is not how I'll die but what'll happen to my body after I hand Charon that coin.

I consider myself a child of the earth and when my body returns to her,I want it to be with as little chemicals as possible in this industrialized age. We already consume food and drink laced with chemicals, not to mention all the shampoos, deodorants, and other cosmetics that supposedly make us "look good".

I don't want my corpse to end up in the hands of some emballmer at the funeral home down the street. They're not spraying my body with formaldehyde or any other chemicals they use as disinfectants. They're not drraining my organs of fluids(nutrients) or removing my intestines, bowels and bladder. Not when my mother's children can feast upon them.

You can forget about burning my ass to ashes too. Not only does the cremation process consume a shitload of energy, it releases 573pounds of carbon dioxide into the air, plus various amounts of mercury, formaldehyde, sulfer dioxide, dioxin, hydrochloric and hydrorfluric acid. (Dixon).

Since prehistoric times to this very day, humans have ended up on the predatory palate. Whether it's a Neanderthal getting his skull crushed by a cave bear or a native fisherman being attacked by a tiger in the Sundarbans, to eat and to be eaten is a part of the cycle of life. In this concumer society, to be consumed is the only consumption that is coherently responsible for the earth. At least for me: I can't, nor won't speak for you.

To this end, i have decided when it's time for me to exit this existence, I may just walk out into the New Mexico desert where my body could feed a pack of wolves and a gila monster take up residence in my picked-clean ribcage. Or perhaps i'll travel back to the Bay Area, rent a boat at Fisherman's Wharf and take it out to the Farallon Islands. Jumping overboard, i'd pull a knife out and slide the blade across my forearm. As the blood spread throughout the water, i'd just wait for my Jawsome friends to arrive for dinner. Won't take long.

Regarding the video below, which the inspiration for this edible entry stems from, I know not why this depressed woman chose to take, no, to give her life as she did. Yes it is sad and tragic. But i can't help feeling an earthly bond towards, and admiration for her. She removed her shoes, plunged into the pit and allowed some of the "monsters of god" (Quammen) to chow down on her. In the end, we;re all sustenance for other beings; it's as natural as farting in a theater.

Credits:

Dixon, Rachel: The Green Death

Quammen, David: Monster of God: The Man-Eating Predator in the Jungles of History and the Mind