My Fake Death

I’ve been receiving a lot of spam lately, in spite of Google’s efforts (of which I’m plenty grateful) of keeping my Gmail spam-free. I suppose if somehow I agreed to receive those newsletters Google can’t—and shouldn’t—filter them. And by “agree” I mean gave it to people for courting reasons or to potential employers, or for any other selfish reason. The point is that I’m free to give my e-mail address to whom I find fit; the catch is I would have to debug my account myself.

In this regard I decided that if they are free to troll by sending me annoying weekly messages, I decided to do some trolling of myself, in the way of  “Watch out we have a badass here!” So I decided that for all related purposes I shall fake my death. I’m sure no one really reads the “other” reasons of why you unsubscribed, but in case Big Brother is reading, there you go: I’m dead for all your spamming purposes.

So please don’t call my family of when and where my Mass-novena is going to take place for I still roam in the realm of the living. And please when I die and there is actually a novena please don't attend.

Epilogue of a very short post:

If I die of a contagious disease, don’t gather to mourn me. Stay the hell away of any people that was in recent contact with me because you will get infected. That is only if you do not think the world is overpopulated.  Be aware that God does not have a divine Lysol for all idiots to decide to mourn the pestilent, even if you believe in him. However, I WILL be expecting my Altar de Muertos on the next November the 2^nd filled with tequila, pizza, beer, tacos and raclette. Otherwise I WILL haunt you.