Get busy dyin’

Following on from the previous article (Endex), so I can say that without a shadow of doubt, every single one of us is going to DIE. Could be today, could be tomorrow – who knows? The when is hard to predict (unless you decide to euthanise yourself that is), but it does seem that you can accelerate yourself to extinction by smoking too many tabs, eating too many pies or drinking vast amounts of hooch (hey, don’t worry kids, other life-limiting methods are also available to choose from in the foyer of life).

There is one substantial ‘fuctor’ (a self-induced, life-limiting factor that basically f**ks you over time) that causes an early demise for a lot of men in particular – the bunfight. Although not a recognised condition by the medical industry, the bunfight is a term used to describe the period of human male life from about 18 to approximately 70 years of age.

From the moment you step foot out of school (after working your nads off to get a piece of paper, that gives you a level of education that hopefully allows you to get a job (nothing wrong with that BTW)), the bunfight begins. Once the job is secured, you then need a house, a car, nice holidays & all the toys – hell, what’s the point of working otherwise? But this is where the bunfight starts to bend you over. For some unknown reason, you get hoodwinked into thinking you need more & more. A bigger house, a more modern car, more elaborate holidays, oh & even more toys. Throw in a wife & kids & before you know it, the bunfight has got your trousers down & is giving it to you, big stylie. You are now working your gonads off & getting shafted every which way, trying to stay alive – ha, ha, ha, ha, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive.

As a medically trained person (I know, I can hardly believe it myself), I am fortunate to deal with a lot of older folks, the majority of which are women. And many of these women live in lovely houses & have a lovely quality of life. But where are there husbands? Six-feet under that’s where – the bunfight got them.

The issue is that men are more likely to kick the arse out of it by participating in too many fuctors. If we look at the bunfight, one of the biggest problems is high blood pressure caused by chronic stress. If you are unfamiliar with high blood pressure, imagine your blood vessels are like a bicycle tyre or a balloon & stress the pump. Your internal pipework can only take a certain amount of pressure before something gives (“Stand back Jethro, he’s gonna blow”). Stroke, heart attack, brain haemorrhage – You get my drift.

So early on in the bunfight, the patches of acute stress are manageable, even fun, but before you know it, you have your trolleys are around you ankles & ….

But the issue of fuctors is that they are self-inflicted. Just like smoking tabs, eating pies & drinking booze, the choices we make in the bunfight can lead to us to be knock, knock, knockin’ on heavens door, much earlier than anticipated.

One thought on “Get busy dyin’

  1. Ohh yes indeed. However, you omit that we all basically voted for that life, albeit unknowingly.

    We know now!

    Nice one mate. Jules


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