Skogsgurra
Electrical
- Mar 31, 2003
- 11,815
I receive so many letters from guys that want me involved in sending them money. Or something. But Mr. Braunwalder Garland gets the prize: He asked me "Did you" (die, that is).
So, I answered him like this:
Thanks a lot for your kind letter, Mr. Braunwalder!
Yes, I died last year, not last week as Mrs. Brown says. She also got it wrong as to the cause of my death - it was from cancer - not a car accident. I can understand that she confused car accident and cancer, there are a lot of common letters in the two.
I wish that I died in a car accident, much nicer than cancer. At least that is what my late friend Bob Pease (the well-known author in Electronic Design, Penton Publishing) has told me when we met in Heaven. God bless him.
I am glad that you write me now. The first weeks were bad; the smell and the bodily decomposition and all that. My wife didn't allow me in our house when lumps of flesh fell off my body, so I couldn't get to my computer for an orderly answer. It is much better now when I have turned into a rather handsome - if I may say so - skeleton with a few interesting features like broken arms, a divided breast bone (from a heart surgery) and a few other less prominent, but still - at least for the connoisseur - interesting features. But I digress, sorry for that.
You have really put me in an awkward situation. I cannot give you any other address than Heaven, upstairs, second cloud to the left and my name is not any clearer - I think that S:t Gunnar would be correct.
Occupation? "Stiff" maybe? Sex? Not easy to tell any more - that organ was one of the first to rot and fall off. So I really cannot say, anymore. HBQTNL perhaps?
Also, I do not have any access to my immense riches any more. All gone. But if Mrs. Brown can find any - she can have it all.
Live and die in peace, dear Mr. Braunschweig. I am sure that you deserve it.
BR from Heaven (it is nice up here - a little boring, perhaps but all the letters from IMF and other earthen organizations keep me busy and also somewhat amused)
Gunnar Englund
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Half full - Half empty? I don't mind. It's what in it that counts.
So, I answered him like this:
Thanks a lot for your kind letter, Mr. Braunwalder!
Yes, I died last year, not last week as Mrs. Brown says. She also got it wrong as to the cause of my death - it was from cancer - not a car accident. I can understand that she confused car accident and cancer, there are a lot of common letters in the two.
I wish that I died in a car accident, much nicer than cancer. At least that is what my late friend Bob Pease (the well-known author in Electronic Design, Penton Publishing) has told me when we met in Heaven. God bless him.
I am glad that you write me now. The first weeks were bad; the smell and the bodily decomposition and all that. My wife didn't allow me in our house when lumps of flesh fell off my body, so I couldn't get to my computer for an orderly answer. It is much better now when I have turned into a rather handsome - if I may say so - skeleton with a few interesting features like broken arms, a divided breast bone (from a heart surgery) and a few other less prominent, but still - at least for the connoisseur - interesting features. But I digress, sorry for that.
You have really put me in an awkward situation. I cannot give you any other address than Heaven, upstairs, second cloud to the left and my name is not any clearer - I think that S:t Gunnar would be correct.
Occupation? "Stiff" maybe? Sex? Not easy to tell any more - that organ was one of the first to rot and fall off. So I really cannot say, anymore. HBQTNL perhaps?
Also, I do not have any access to my immense riches any more. All gone. But if Mrs. Brown can find any - she can have it all.
Live and die in peace, dear Mr. Braunschweig. I am sure that you deserve it.
BR from Heaven (it is nice up here - a little boring, perhaps but all the letters from IMF and other earthen organizations keep me busy and also somewhat amused)
Gunnar Englund
--------------------------------------
Half full - Half empty? I don't mind. It's what in it that counts.