Musings on Death and Candy

This morning, feeling the effects of too many 3 Musketeers (fun size) and Hershey Cookies 'n' Cremes (snack size), I am filled with remorse, not to mention a boatload of sugar, palm oil, ferrous sulfate, lecithin, high fructose corn syrup, cocoa powder, egg whites, emulsifier, salt and artificial flavors. I may also contain peanuts. But most of all, I am wondering if death played a part in my piggish consumption of all that Halloween candy last night. If I thought I'd live forever, might I have eaten less--or even more?

Each year, against my will, I participate in this once holy and Christian but now just fattening and dumb global ritual, fearing that if I turn off the porch light and ignore the doorbell, evil will rain down upon my house. This of course is ridiculous since most of the would-be tricksters are mere toddlers who can barely even say "trick or treat." They just stand there in their not-quite-costumes with their bags held open, waiting for the payoff which is pretty standard fare these days, unlike back in the day when you got something exciting. Then came the razor blade warnings and now it's just the same stuff everyone is dispensing.

Turns out that virtually all of the very few known candy-poisoning incidents involved parents who poisoned their own children's candy. But knowing that death is coming and that this Halloween could be my last, as it could for us all including the cute little zebra and the lovely Snow White, I go along. Later, finding myself alone with the uneaten remains of this bizarre celebration, I behave badly, rationalizing, "If not now, when?" The morning after, alive but nauseous, I hate myself.

Sometimes, for no reason at all or for a very good reason indeed, I flash on the fact that I will not live forever and so I should enjoy myself right now or be nicer to someone I dislike or lose those stubborn ten pounds already. If eternity beckoned I might weigh 500 pounds today, reasoning I can always start my diet next year instead of tomorrow. I might also still be living in California; minus the fear of perishing in an earthquake, it has a lot to recommend it, really. And without the fear of dying I would travel a lot more, and might even have the spunk to fly to India or Hawaii or New Zealand. Of course, the planes would be so much more crowded what with all the people who never died, it would be impossible to ever book a flight.

Still, I wonder: Does death serve another purpose beyond our eventual mulching of the planet? I'm undecided, but I know I would worry less, and that could only be good.