Often—because of Satan or sick impulses or the lure of the path of excess—we choose to do things that may end up killing us. And we do these things knowing how dead death makes us.

We don’t need a Surgeon’s General warning to recognize that speeding through the blackness of a holiday weekend night, slightly buzzed, smoking cigarettes, stuffing down French fries is not extending our life expectancy. Of course doing all that isn’t exactly standing on a ledge after giving away all of our possessions and writing a really florid, fulsome blog either, but it’s closer to that than most things.

As Jim Morrison once warbled, No one here gets out alive. Once you stop growing, at around eighteen, you start dying. Even if you’re the healthiest man on earth you could die randomly on a flimsy ski lift or in some tsunami. But you probably won’t. I’ve spent the last few weeks explaining that we more or less choose how we die. Today, I want to explain what is worth dying for.

Things Worth Dying For—My List

1. Antiperspirant
While there is no conclusive evidence that antiperspirant causes cancer, I wouldn’t give a fuck if there were. I’m perfectly aware that putting tiny pieces of aluminum under my arms one or two times day isn’t exactly healthy. Maybe the hygiene Nazis or the schoolmarms in my head have indoctrinated me, but living in complete denial of the swampy conditions that should exist in my pits is a pure pleasure. If I were forced to choose just one item to bring with me to a desert island where I’d be stranded forever, I would have to choose a case of antiperspirant or my glasses (or a George Foreman Grill if there was electricity). Obviously I wouldn’t care about the smell of sweat or embarrassment of stains on a desert island. I would choose my roll-on for the swell, calming feeling of knowing that tiny tinfoil is suppressing my natural secretions. Somehow that feeling makes me feel human.
Suicidal factor: Very, very low.

2. Speeding
The freeway is our prairie, the unexplored ocean, the undiscovered country. That car in our lane ahead, the one going too slow is our sworn enemy. Brake lights are a sign from God that we are not blessed. We’ve traveled much further than we should have in this life because of the internal combustion engine. Traveling great distances at incredible speeds has become an almost banal part of life. We’re in pretty constant denial of the dangers of speed. We like to forget how we could be torn apart or impaled by a steering wheel or crushed like the emptiness inside a juice box. We like to pretend that it makes sense that we’re going 70 miles per hour to get an Egg McMuffin at 5 AM. But we’re not just inviting death into our lives, we’re nearly begging for it.
Suicidal factor: Pretty high.

3. Pharmaceuticals
I won’t even date a girl who isn’t on antidepressants. Ibuprofen is a must before bed. Give me my twelve-hour Sudafed before I leave the house or give me the day off.
Suicidal factor: No one knows.

4. Fatty foods
Transfats are delicious. I’d like them fried with some cheese, please. Food is the addiction we all have. It’s the most consistent pleasure on earth, and the most affordable indulgence. There’s the cultured pleasure of a delicious and quality bite of food. But I prefer the quantity. I’d like more, please. There’s an actual high we get from over-eating, from eating more and richer food than we need to subsist. If the rest of my life only promised bread and water, I doubt I’d have much glee at the thought of going on. I’d probably start speeding a lot more.
Suicidal factor: Very high. Second leading cause of preventable death.

5. Love
There’s the moment in The Unbearable Lightness of Being when Tomas looks at Tereza and realizes he would not survive her death. In that moment, he discovers the horror of living a life of meaning and weight. There is consequence. There is cost to love, especially for seniors. Men are 18% more likely to die in the year after their spouse’s death. Women are 16% more likely. Strangely, this phenomenon is only evident in white Americans, which is another reason it sucks to be white. Love also consumes. In the year 2000, about 2000 people were murdered by their partner. Eugene O’Neil points out that suicide never is about killing just yourself. It’s always meant to kill two. Love is the entanglement of the self with another. It increases the dangers of life by two. Love makes us sick. It breaks our heart, and it’s always a bit dangerous.
Suicidal factor: “To make yourself something less than you can be—
that too is a form of suicide.” Benjamin Lichtenberg

6. Sex
Nothing makes a guy (and maybe gals, I can’t speak for them) dumber than horniness. Three to four square feet and an erect penis are all that’s needed. Caution is forgotten, fluids are exchanged. Dying during actual sex is very rare. But we all know what diseases and dangers, given the right clusterfuck of bad luck, can result from sex.
Suicidal factor: Who gives a fuck?

7. Diet Coke
Until Cher dies of Cancer, I’m fine.
Suicidal factor: Slight. Less with lemon.

Other People’s Things Worth Dying For
1.Cigarettes
400,000 Americans die a year from smoking related disease, but smoking still looks cool. I admit that I’ve tried to get hooked on cigarettes several times in my life. It almost took when I was spending two hours a day in LA traffic on my way to and back from a job that wasn’t worth dying for. But I’m lucky. Nicotine isn’t my thing. Those who are truly addicted say it’s harder to quit cigarettes than any drug, including heroin. I can believe that, in the same way I believe I could handle the pain of child birth if I had to. There are so many things that go into smoking, so many little habits to break. There’s nary an addiction that can be so seamlessly woven into daily life. It’s a constant pleasure to some, affordable in small dose and it will kill you, eventually.
Suicidal factor: Very high.

2. Motorcycles
Take the coolness of smoking and multiply the pleasures of speeding exponentially.
Suicidal factor: High

3. Hard Drugs
They say that Heroin feels like an orgasm that spreads through your body and lasts for minutes. This is why I’m waiting until I’m 70 until I try it.
Suicidal factor: Not in the top 15 causes of death.

When people say nothing is worth dying for, I know what they mean. Well, Version A of me knows what they mean. But there’s always a Version B and he was downing some Vicodin, drinking a pizza smoothie and cutting off some old lady to get into a fast lane the last time I checked.

Drawing by Jeff Hurlow.

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