I’m not saying it will happen. Not at all. Or at least not any time soon. I’m pretty sure I’m going to be around to annoy everyone for way, way, WAY too long. Too long for you, too long for me, to the point of, “Seriously! Just shoot it already.”
But just in case I land tits-up in some colorful, wildly improbable crime scene, make sure that Keith Morrison is my Dateline narrator. I like them all but only Keith will make my strange demise sound so…intriguingly, eerily graceful.
Definitely not the, “tripped while cussing like a sailor and somehow stabbed herself with a melon baller multiple times” death that it will inevitably be.
Just be sure you don’t tell him that we all already know how ridiculously this ends or he won’t do it. Especially, since I don’t know where to find Bill Kurtis.