THE CHUCK-IT LIST
Things I Have No Intention of Doing Before Bucketing
by
Steven D. Bennett
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2011 by Steven D. Bennett
Published by DeadLife Books
1
Forward
"Every man dies, but not every man lives." William Wallace.
Many people throughout the centuries have been inspired by these words, yet rarely do they stop to think how truly idiotic they are. After all, every man who has lived will die, and every man who has died has lived. Therefore, William Wallace was an ass.
How most people live is beyond my interest, and how they die beyond my control. Nevertheless, like most people with intelligence, I have an opinion, and like most people without intelligence, I don't mind sharing that opinion. And that opinion is this: one must live to die, but one needn't die to live.
Let me explain, and pay attention so I don't have to retype.
Every man must live to die. You can't die unless you've lived. (I didn't think I would need to explain this, but I realize there are those people so intelligent that you must explain the basics.) But no man need die to live.
Now let me define.
The phrase "to live" can be taken many ways, and no matter how you take it please don't bring it back as it's brought nothing but trouble ever since I wrote it. To live, in this context means, simply, to experience life. Again, everyone born has experienced life; the biologist would argue that everyone conceived has experienced life. I was conceived and I helped conceive, and both were life experiences. I'm not sure where I'm going with this, which, coincidentally, is the same thing I said in both instances.
Back to the main point of the book, which we haven't got to yet, but now that it's here feel free to come back to it at any time; except now, as we are just getting there for the first time. That should be clear without restating, which I won't.
The main point of the book is that people do not need…no, people should always…no, they never should need….rarely should they always…
Okay, I'm lost.
Wait, I found some notes. They were for my last book, but they'll do.
Here it is, the MAIN POINT OF THE BOOK.:
People don't have to do crazy things or travel to odd places in an effort to pretend they've lived a fulfilling life before they die.
Whew! Even in such a convoluted state, that is a pretty freeing sentence, which, when you think about it, is an oxymoron. How can a sentence be freeing when a sentence, by definition, is a term of confinement? Nobody knows, is the answer to that conundrum.
Don't be confined, be free! That's another message of the book, now that I write it. You, too, (yes, both of you) can live life in all its unique repetition without feeling any guilt that you're missing something. You may be missing something, but it's probably a mental problem. I'm missing a mental problem. You might not be so fortunate; you may have the one I'm missing.
Chapter 1 – Why it's good to stay home
Wait, let's not get ahead of ourselves; this book has no chapters, only a forward and a backward and a bouncing middle, like a ping pong game with you being the ball…which is another point of this book. In the game of life, be the paddle.
Now to some lesser points, i.e., the rest of the book.
There are so many things I don’t want to do. I read about them daily in the paper or on blogs, those dangerous undertakings that people think fun. Climbing a mountain naked or swimming the English Channel naked or snorkeling the Great Barrier Reef naked. And I think to myself as I sit on my couch, naked, “Gee, that’s something I never want to do.”
This could be because I've done too much already; at least I've convinced myself that I've done too much already. That's certainly what I tell people, especially my wife, when she's imploring me to finish her Honey Do list, which is her version of my Bucket List, which is all the things she wants me to do before bucketing. (Since this list never ends but keeps elongating, I always wonder if her Honey Do list is actually my Bucket List. Thank God it never ends.)
In any case, there is no activity to be done or place to be seen that, if unaccomplished, would deem my life incomplete. Maybe if I miss a few meals I'd rethink this philosophy. But being married, I have spent almost three decades feeling incomplete, inadequate, uninformed and under-utilized, so maybe I'm just used to it. But if one must go Out There (I am now pointing at the nearest window for emphasis) to find fulfillment instead of looking In Here (I'm pointing to my chest, where my heart is, now my head, where my brain should be, now my finger's stuck in my ear…okay, it's out…now let me go wash my finger…okay, I'm back; feel free to squeegee any excess water from the page) then there's something wrong with your life anyway and no amount of outside activity will bring contentment. Unless being discontent is on your list, then you're way ahead of the game.
As you peruse the Chuck-It List, ideas for things you don't wish to do will inevitably come to mind. Write them down, make your own Chuck-It Lists, remembering always where the idea came from and how you might wish to repay the originator, the only activity ineligible for the Chuck-It list.
I realize also that words that rhyme with "Chuck" could be used for a different, if not obscene, shading of a list. I would urge caution and discretion, with a reminder that even if similar-but-not-exact wording be used, the same royalties will apply.
How to begin your list? Easy. Think of all the places you don't want to go (starting with a relative's birthday party, perhaps) and all the people you don't want to meet (starting with a relative's birthday party, perhaps) and you will uncover a whole new world of things that don't need to be done. Peruse the internet for other people's ideas of their Bucket Lists. This should be the impetus for many minutes of fun. Or, if this can be accomplished straight-faced, talk to people in person about their Bucket Lists. A crowded mall in the perfect place, or a long bank line. The local baseball field during innings would be fun, I imagine. Avoid rest homes and mortuaries, as I plan to do in the future.
I realize there may be times during one's life when one is forced to do a Bucket List behavior against one's will. An airplane explosion at 30,000 feet might force you to paraglide as you plummet to the ground holding onto the plane's rudder, or a sudden tornado might transport you across state lines and deposit you in front of some museum or such. But as these occurrences were not by design they will not be held against you or tarnish your standing in regards your own Chuck-It List.
Finally, let me assure everyone that my motive in this endeavor is not to discourage, but to inspire. Not just one person, or two, or two-hundred, but six actual people to live the life that—if we were honest--we all truly wish to lead. And, as our reward, as we lie on our death beds, we will be able to look back at a life spent safe, sound, relaxed, relieved and reclined.
Here, then, is my Chuck-It List:
See Paris.
Either Hilton or France, neither seems worthwhile. One is an empty, vapid, classless, culturally void, classless second-rate wannabe, and the other is a celebrity. Both contain points of interest, both are tourist attractions, both have been invaded by foreigners, and, fortunately, both can be watched at home on DVD with a crowd of your own choosing.
SkyDive.
The reason many give for undertaking such a gravity-affirming sport is to "feel alive." The sight of hard ground coming at their wind-distorted faces a few hundred miles an hour is the only thing that will supply their needed adrenal fix.
Some claim to see God while in the air, as they believe they are closer to Him, physically and spiritual, at that time, but that is a common spiritual misconception. God is everywhere, and as there is more "everywhere" on the ground than there is in the air, He is actually closer to me in my home. I would argue in their behalf thought, that as they are engaged in a behavior more likely to bring about their death, they are closer to God's immediate presence.
Fly over the North Pole.
You would experience the same thrill lining your clothing with ice and staring at a white surface.
If one took such a flight, the task of making a list of which passengers to consume once the plane crashed would take up most of the time.
Climb Mt. Everest.
The only reason people give for such an expedition is: because it's there. The reason to avoid it is: because you don't have to.
Why risk death and irreplaceable extremities (some being very irreplaceable) just for the thrill of being able to say, "I'm higher than anyone in the world, except everyone on a plane."
Go On An African Safari.
Hot, dusty, buggy, uncomfortable…and those are the selling points. This is why we have zoo's, which have refreshment, relief, and funny tour guides.
People with self-esteem issues like Teddy Roosevelt and Ernest Hemingway made this seem like a manly endeavor when in actuality it's the antithesis. Real men take care of their families, at home, where danger from wildlife is rare.
Go to a Red Carpet Event.
I can't think of a celebrity I would cross the street to meet, let alone spend hours standing in a sweaty crowd of crazed fans in hopes of seeing some actor's greasy cowlick.
No one who isn't presenting (in the traditional sense, though many actresses, perhaps in hope of future work, dress as though they are presenting in the not-so-traditional sense) an award or receiving one should be seen on the red carpet.
Visit a Strip Joint.
If I want to surround myself with young women who have absolutely no interest in me, I can visit any beach or college campus, for free.
I realize flashing a few twenties at a strip joint would cause naked women to seek my attention, but I also know--the psychology of the job being what it is--that strippers hate their customers. I'm no desperate enough to pay for someone to hate me. Yet.
Attend an Opera.
The only thing worse than a man screaming at you in Italian is a man in a dress screaming at you in Italian--with the backing of a symphony orchestra. Some of the greatest music ever created was written for opera, I'm told, but until I believe it, it remains ear-splitting, headache-forming, teeth-grinding noise.
Travel the world.
The rest of the world is annoying. The food’s bad, the people don’t speak well English, and the toilet facilities are atrocious. And the coffee? Sewer water with sugar would be a taste treat compared to the swill they swallow. Until I know there’ll be a Starbucks waiting upon arrival, I’ll be content in visiting my local Wal-Mart, where I'm sure to hear dialects from every country on Earth.
Learn a new language.
There are no new languages.
Try out a new profession.
I'm going to try Retired Millionaire.
Achieve your ideal weight.
I did this at birth. It's been uphill ever since.
Run a marathon.
A little known fact about modes of transportation is that they are made in direct proportion to the distance to be traveled. Feet, small distances. Automobile, long distances.
Though the prize for running 26 miles, 385 yards—a t-shirt with safety-pinned number attached—is tempting, it is still slight recompense for the pain and injuries one endures in the pursuit of ending up pretty much where you began.
Contact all your teachers from school and tell them how much they’ve influenced you.
They’re dead. And if they’re not, they’re probably in the Old Teachers Home, mindless and mumbling, drooling and drowsy...much like when they were teaching. Their one common influence was steering me away from the teaching profession. And I thank you all.
Be a mentor to someone.
This sounds like it takes spare time, and the last time I had any of that precious commodity I used it to clip my toenails.
Any moment I’m not working on my true Bucket List, i.e. my wife’s Honey Do list--things she wants me to accomplish before I die, which ironically is helping to bring me to that point sooner—I spend trying to find a moment to myself, usually in the bathroom. And that is not the time or place to be a mentor to anyone.
Learn horseback riding.
Thanks, but I like my genitals right where they are.
Take up dancing.
Thanks, but I like my genitals right where they are.
Experience a sunrise or sunset.
Thanks, but I like my genitals…what is the fascination people have with genitals….uh, I mean, gender neutralization? Men don't "experience" anything. How could you? Why would you?
When I experience a sunrise it means I’m up too early doing something I don’t want to do. And when I experience a sunset it's when I'm driving back from the very thing I spent all day doing that I didn't want to do.
I'll focus on experiencing noon.
Own a pet.
This should not be on anyone's list. I have cats, and it’s not by design or desire. My kids like cats and now I have more cats at home than kids. The kids move on, the cats stay home. So much for the empty-nest syndrome. And what they say about cats is as true as it is about women: the only way to get them to stay is try to get rid of them, the only way to get rid of them is to try to get them to stay. But my cats are too stupid for reverse psychology and stay in the yard no matter what motivation I project.
The only reason I like cats instead of dogs is that they stay outside and you only have to feed them when you remember. Dogs are like furry stalkers, always needing attention. They trample your garden, soil your carpet and pee on your shoes. I’d honestly rather have another child than have a dog; there's less work, and less pee.
Make a difference in someone’s life.
I have four kids. My difference got them here. More than that I can’t do.
Fly in a hot air balloon.
They have no steering wheels, no brakes and no Down button. You are at the mercy of the inconsiderate wind. And no matter how safe the "driver" says they are, there are still plenty of power lines around just waiting to fry a guy in a bucket.
Plant a tree and watch it grow.
Is this similar to paint a wall and watch it dry? I’m no scientist, but one thing I’ve learned in my life is that trees grow slowly. Very slowly. If you have this much time you should be put in a coma so you can experience life in the fast lane.
Speak in front of 10,000 people.
I’ve done better. The exact attendance was 24,541. I don’t know if they heard me, but I was speaking during the whole game. And the Red Sox won. Talk about persuasion.
Sing a song in front of an audience.
See above. I believe “The Star Spangled Banner” fulfills the criteria.
Write a letter to 3 of your closest friends and let them know how much they mean to you.
Because I haven’t done this is why they remain my closest friends.
Make friends with 5 strangers on the street.
There's a recipe for five restraining orders. Strangers are called strangers for a reason; because they are stranger than normal people. And more friends means writing more letters, telling people how much they mean to you.
Throw a mega party.
Only if my own attendance wasn't required.
Achieve financial abundance with your passion.
My wife refuses to have a camera in the bedroom. Besides, I don’t know how many people would pay to watch me have muscle cramps for twelve minutes. On the other hand, the world is full of perverts, mostly on the internet, mostly reading eBooks.
Act in a film.
My wife refuses to have a camera in the bedroom. Though it would be nice to be the Director instead of Producer, and to say "Action!" with expectation.
See the Northern Lights.
From what I've read the Northern Lights are in the North, and further study shows that the North is cold. Doesn't Hawaii have lights?
Go skiing.
The sport of Surgeons. Not because they love to ski, but because they love to perform surgery. Ski Season is also Transplant Season, so much so that some ski runs have unofficial names. Ripped-Out Ridge. Pancreas Plunge. Kidney Korner. Liver Landing. Slippery Skin Scrape-Off. To name a few.
The most desired donors are young men, and fortunately young men love to ski and snowboard faster than common sense can follow. The faster they go, the wider trees become. And the older, and slower I get, the more I leave the slopes to more qualified donors.
Swim with dolphins.
I believe swimming with the fishes is for the other side of the list.
Get a complete makeover.
Time is doing that for me, and I'm not happy with the results.
Win a contest.
Great idea. I pick the lottery. I pick tomorrow. I pick thirty million dollars. After those three quick picks, I should be set for life.
Be featured on TV, radio or newspapers for an achievement you are proud of.
Assuming criminal acts are inadmissible, my achievement will be The Person Who Has Accomplished the Least in Life, though any Congressman is even more qualified.
Have an Out-Of-Body experience.
I didn’t know you could plan this. I've had a few out-of-mind experiences. Those weren't planned, either.
Conquer your biggest fear.
This is a paradox, for behind the suggestion lies the fact that this is a never-ending exercise. Parenthetically, if I conquer my biggest fear, my next biggest fear will become my biggest fear. If I conquer that, then my third biggest fear will move up in rank, ad infinitum (for those who are one infinitum short). Best to keep them in their current order, which I’ve already memorized.
Live through the 4 seasons of the year.
If you’re more than a year old, you can cross this off your list. Technically, if you're more than 3 months old you can cross this off your list. But if you are less than a year old you shouldn't be reading this book in the first place, so please stop. If you are at least a year old, please continue.
Have dinner with someone you’ve only dreamed of meeting.
As long as no one minds me digging up George Washington and Abraham Lincoln, I'm game, and they'll be gamey. They wouldn't eat much, and I'd have to do all the talking.
They sound like the perfect guests!
I'd have to bury them later.
They sound like the perfect guests!
Call the customer service dept. of any company just to thank them for their great service.
As soon as I get that great service, they'll be the first to know.
Learn a strategy game.
I'm learning the Game of Life, though it never seems to be my turn.
Give a heartfelt surprise to someone.
I did, about two-thirty in the morning. She didn't appreciate it.
Perform a kind deed to at least 5 strangers without expecting anything in return.
I save at least that many lives every week, by not killing the hoards of people who cut me off on the freeway. If I keep saving lives at this clip, in a few years the population may double.
Write a book on something that means a lot to you.
If "means a lot" can be translated as "means a lot of money" then I'm almost done.
Witness a solar eclipse.
And then you'll be blind.
Go stargazing.
Stars rarely move, so if you've done this once you're good for a lifetime.
Go backpacking across 10 locations.
Today alone I've backpacked in the living room, bedroom, bathroom, hallway, wine cellar/closet, bathroom, smoking room/garage, bathroom and attic. Last stop will be the back yard/bathroom/playground/tanning room/campground/husband dog house.
Camp out in the wild.
The wild is very unaccommodating. No toilets. No thermostat. Just a small shovel and a cold hole. Bring a magazine; no t.p. either.
Read a book on a subject you’d never have thought of reading.
"Dear God, It's Me, Margaret, and I Have Menopause."
Fold a 1,000 origami cranes and give them to someone special.
One special person with one special trash can.
Go on a meditation retreat.
The only people who do this are men in their sixties living out the fantasy that a group of twenty-year-old girls will wander by who are desperate to have sex with them. And after a week of frustrating fantasies spent naked in a sweat lodge with other men may make them less discriminating.
Start a social movement on a cause you believe in.
I'm working on it. 3,000 words to go.
Watch cherry blossoms in Japan.
Watch them do what?
Get closure on all your hurt, grievances and unhappiness of the past.
Or, to save time, just get over it.
Bury the hatchet with all of your enemies.
They are too oblivious to their behavior to know they are my enemies.
Do something completely crazy and out of character.
Got married. Had kids. Stayed married. Had grand-kids.
Fly first class.
Done; on an airline whose accommodations were so stellar I got all the bags of peanuts I wanted and an extra Coke. I felt like a king.
Hit bulls eye on a dartboard.
If it doesn't matter how close I stand…dunnit.
Visit a volcano.
They don't like visitors. Makes their lava boil.
Fly in a helicopter.
As long as the pilot abides by the rules put forth by Bill Cosby and flies no higher than five feet above the pavement.
Try out front-line customer service jobs such being a waiter/waitress for a month just for the experience.
Catering to ill-mannered people who hate the food, hate the accommodations, hate the seating, hate the view, don't like you and never leave a tip. I think parenting fulfills that item.
Go on a romantic getaway.
With at least one other person.
Learn gymnastics
Kindergarten, the Rolly-Polly champ.
Go to a costume party and dress up as your fantasy character.
Mr. No Pants.
Gain enlightenment.
The official definition is: a final blessed state free from ignorance, desire and suffering. The good news is we will all attain this. Don't ask about the bad news.
Scuba dive on Great Barrier Reef, Australia.
And swim alongside the Box Jellyfish, one of the deadliest animals on Earth. That will keep you down under.
Go whale-watching.
Did. Saw. Barfed.
Dive with sharks.
Sharks don't dive. But they are synchronized biters.
Fly in a fighter jet.
As seen clearly in the documentary, "Independence Day," aliens are sitting up there waiting for jets to hit their invisible force field.
Escape to a paradise island.
Tom Hanks had to smash his face with Wilson, the Rock Dentist, on his paradise island. What if he had had appendicitis? Or needed a vasectomy?
Walk the Great Wall of China.
What, no Rickshaws?
Go bungee jumping.
The brain is fully attached once one leaves the teen years. Leave it to the donors.
Drive along Route 66.
Must love tumbleweeds, dead rabbits, rusting Chevy's and relentless hours of boredom. Bring a pistol.
Take the Orient Express.
Not a chance. Someone's always getting stabbed by twelve complete strangers.
See elephants in the wild.
Elephants are elephants, at the zoo or on zoofari. Seeing them in captivity gives you less chance of being crushed.
Ride a motorbike on the open road.
And soon you'll know the joy of being paralyzed.
Wonder at a waterfall.
Wonder what? Why gravity doesn't go up? A water-up I would wonder at.
Travel into space.
This can get a big pricey unless you have a really big balloon.
Go wing-walking.
Then hood surfing, and Caboose skipping, and boat jumping. People unable to distinguish between the inside and outside of various modes of transportation should not be travelling.
Drive a husky sled.
Be not fooled; the dogs are the actual drivers. People are passengers, and potty breaks are done on the run.
Hike up a glacier.
I'll wait for global warming to make this a comfortable stroll in galoshes.
Go polar bear watching.
Another benefit of global warming: they should soon be floating down a waterway near you.
Work because I like to, not because I have to.
And pay bills when you feel like it.
Reinvent myself.
That worked great for Frankenstein.
Find someone who loves me for me.
Reinvent yourself first.
Grow a garden of herbs and vegetables.
We all know what this is code for, pothead.
Live in California.
Legally, or like everyone else?
Go ice fishing.
I don't need more ice.
Keep a journal.
"Dear journal, Today I wrote this sentence. Then I had lunch. Me.
Be the best parent I can be.
Why, my kids aren't the best kids they could be?
Think positively.
That ain't gonna happen.
Find my dad.
Check the bathroom, that's where most dads hide out.
See how I will look when I'm older.
No need to rush things. We'll all find out soon enough.
Run the New York Marathon.
A daily event in NYC, also known as the "Help, I'm being mugged!" –athon.
Have groupies.
A groupie of someone who hasn't accomplished anything is a prostitute.
Swim across the English Channel.
Start
in grease.
Take
up fencing.
Picket,
rail, or chain link?
Participate
in the Tour de France.
I
was the official watcher for two of the longest minutes of my life.
Take Up Martial Arts.
Instead of learning the physical art of self-defense, I'm learning the psychological art. It's cheaper, faster, and it'll have you safely walking the streets in minutes.
Rule 1: Never walk the streets.
Rule 2: Dress like a bum so no one will think you have money.
Rule 3: Carry a gun.
Rule 4: Never walk the streets.
Learn my Grandparent's native tongue.
He spoke broken English. I mean, He-a spoke-a brokin' En' glish-a. And he was from England.
Break
a Guinness World Record.
I'm
going to be the oldest person who ever lived. So far, so good.
Make a list of 100 books you want to read.
Were there 100 books written worth reading?
Read
every novel that has won a Pulitzer Prize in the Fiction Category.
Something about the Pulitzer brings out the mediocrity of the judges.
Read
all of the Russian classics.
All
two of them?
Read every book your favorite author has written.
If they're your favorite, you already have.
Read
all of Agatha Christie’s mystery novels.
Read a few, you've read them all.
Make a list of 100 movies you want to watch.
Were
there 100 movies made worth watching?
Allow
yourself to make mistakes.
My pryde won't let me.
Discover your life’s purpose.
It is to avoid finding my life's purpose.
Learn
not to take what others do or say personally.
Or
seriously.
Release all negativity.
It keeps blowing back.
Kick negative habits.
I have released all negativity so all my habits are good.
Learn to say “no” without feeling guilty.
No, I will do that.
Shake hands with your favorite actor, singer, writer, etc.
Before they're dead, I assume.
Have a street named after you.
Or change your name to an already-named street. Johnny Main Street.
Be
inducted into a Hall of Fame.
Is there a Procrastinator's Hall of Fame? I'll apply later.
Cut the ribbon at a major opening.
Jimmy's Garage. Not an auto shop, his actual garage.
Make
the front page of the newspaper.
The Chuck-It List Monthly will be out soon.
Be
interviewed on The Today Show.
I'm busy today. Is The Tomorrow Show still on? I'm busy tomorrow.
Build a Habitat for Humanity Home.
I've got ten cardboard boxes and a roll of duct tape just waiting.
Join
the Peace Corps.
And
work to change their motto: Fifty Years and Still No Peace.
Donate
a million dollars to your alma mater.
Now
what would an elementary school do with a million dollars?
Get
an article published on The Huffington Post.
I'll
put this on my "I've given up hope of doing anything great"
list.
Write
a New York Times’ #1 Best Seller.
I've got the perfect title. "How to Write a New York Times' #1 Best Seller."
Write
a Best-Selling eBook.
I've
got the perfect title. "How to Write a Best-Selling eBook."
Make a documentary film.
I've got the perfect title. "How to make a documentary film."
Write a children’s book.
I've got the perfect title. But I'll leave that task to the true experts of children: celebrities who adopt kids from Africa.
Write
for a TV sitcom.
I
keep submitting to "Leave it to Beaver." Perseverance is
the key to success.
Audition for a rock band.
I keep sending my audition demo to The Beatles. (I'll be the third Beatle…if they hurry.)
Own a private jet.
I can put it in my private back yard.
Own an island.
The moat around my house is almost finished.
Be an authority in your field.
Be a scarecrow?
Leave a valuable contribution in your area of expertise.
I don't care what happens when I'm gone. I want compensation now!
Invent
a board game.
The Flat Earth game. After every roll of the dice someone falls off the edge.
Have your paintings exhibited in a gallery.
I don't do impressionisms.
Become
a life coach.
I want to be an after-life coach.
Create enough passive income so that you don’t have to work another day in your life.
Tell all your friends about The Chuck-It List!
Become a millionaire.
Start with a billion dollars and invest in real estate.
Become a billionaire.
Start
with a trillion dollars and invest in the stock market.
Find the love of your life.
I accomplished this, as we all did, right after I found the mirror.
Write
a letter to each of your children telling them what you want them to
know about your life and the lessons you’ve learned.
Dear kids. Marry rich. Love, Dad.
Build Your Ideal Home.
My ideal home has no mortgage or neighbors. I'm looking for the plans.
Spend a week at a Silent Retreat.
I'm guessing no women attend.
Learn to live in the now.
There's no feasible alternative.
Have a past life regression.
In
my past life I was a zygote. Baa.
*****
Backward
As you have made it from Forward to Backward, I hope you have fulfilled the goal we set back then—namely nothing—and are now resting on your empty laurels with a rested soul and empty mind, content at finally finding your reason for being. If not, you've wasted a lot of time.
In the interest of disclosure, I may as well reveal an underlying truth about the Chuck-It List: It was never meant to be taken seriously. Perhaps being listed under Humor may have given away the secret, but if not, there it is; naked, raw, and needing a bath.
It is, was, and will never be my intent to discourage anyone from reaching one of their goals or fulfilling one of their dreams, no matter how silly I think they are. As mentioned in the Forward and repeated here, I have little interest in how people live their lives. Though, like a polite stranger at a party, I am more than willing to entertain anyone wanting to relate their own aspirations as I nod, smile, and wish I were dead.
No, I simply wished to poke harmless fun at those who think having a Bucket List something worthwhile. When I first heard the concept, I thought the idea inane, idiotic, and one that a vast amount of people would immediately embrace.
It is in no way original, of course. There was a TV series with Ben Gazarra, Run For Your Life, which ran (ha-ha) from 1965-1968, wherein the main character is told he has no more than eighteen months to live (the irony being the show ran twice as long, death held at bay by ratings) and thus goes on a quest to cram a lifetime of experiences into those few months. Those who remember the show may also recall that beyond the theme song--which gave a nice synopsis of the plot—there was little else to remember.
I have a second confession to make: I have accomplished many of the things on the Chuck-It List. Certainly not enough to satisfy some members of the family, but more than I cared to.
And if I had the gall to confess a third truth, it would be to admit that I actually enjoyed most of those things I did, even if I had to be pulled kicking and screaming—couch in one hand, remote in the other—from my home.
In spite of the enjoyment I've had seeing places and accomplishing tasks, I still view the idea of a Bucket List as pretty stupid.
It is my belief that things should develop organically, like compost, sitting in a pile and slowly disintegrating. It goes against nature—at least my nature—to follow a regimented To Do list, even if it be self-imposed. We should rage, rage against the list, and live life unordered, spontaneous, carefree, free-spirited, lazy.
And maybe spreading that message of freedom is the reason I wrote this.
Or maybe there is a reason closer to the truth.
As my wife has observed, I just don't like lists.