​

Oh! When I eventually slip the surly bonds of earth, I have one final request.
I would like to request that my meat shell be burnt into ashes. A half dozen ounces of these ashes already have a reservation to be blasted into low earth orbit, which is where I belong, and have longed to go back to. I would like to request that the remainder of my burnt up remains be mixed into enough yards of cement that twelve or so stepping stones can be molded. Make them something funny like Bigfoot footprints. I would like to have the majority of these shipped to my children. This way they can continue to walk all over me, even in death.

For entirely different reasons, I would like at least one sent to Patrick, Kelly, and Sean. I never got to meet them in person, but I think they would find this hilarious. I know I do. I have spoken.