I stopped caring. I used to have like existential dread and depression and regret and anger and bargaining, you know, all these, all the state, all the 20, 27 stages of death.

There's like jacking off.

That's a stage that I return to many times.

Jacking off.

Blame.

Well, the jacking off restarts all 27 steps, right?

Yeah.

There's a lot more than five stages of death.

Many, many, many. Yelling at your wife wife, drinking. That's a stage. Oh, shit. Then I'm like terminal. Uh-oh. But then I just kind of stopped. I just like, whatever, man, fuck it. Who fucking cares? You got to write your book? It's going to get worse. The art of not giving a fuck now. That's you. The art of not giving a fuck? That sounds like a Scott Adams book, man. That sounds like me asking for cancer if I were to do that. Ass cancer. Ass cancer, dude. Can you believe that guy went out like such a pussy? He should have just, I mean, you touched on it, but if like,

it's like, hey man, you already got.

I'd have a list of bankers.

Yeah.

I got fucking cancer, man.

Yeah.

I don't give a fuck.

I'd have a lot more choice words to leave behind than that shaffy thing.

Yeah.

Not, not of, the suicide note would not be like, you know uh formatted and and um edited for grammar

and smugness um mine would just say if you're reading this it's too late it would be written

on legal pad yeah a yellow legal bag. Yeah. A.

Let me just cut to the chase here.

You all know what happened.

...