The thing that makes death such a fascinating subject is that, by definition, it's a once-in-a-lifetime event. So is birth, too, but there's no "you" sitting around beforehand to ponder your forthcoming birth, so that's in a different category. To state it precisely, death is the only once-in-a-lifetime event that is ponderable beforehand. That's why you do it.

Pondering death in general is one thing. "Yeah, yeah, one of these days I'm gonna go." Sometime way in the future, presumably, and under circumstances only vaguely imagined. "Maybe I'll have a heart attack in bed," you hope to yourself, considering this to be preferable when measured against such things as the slow suffocation of emphysema or watching your body rot away from cancer.

Foreseeing death as something you wait for but don't bring on yourself makes it fascinating, but since it doesn't involve making any decisions, there's no immediacy to it.

Suicide, on the other hand, means that you have to plan. And when you're planning for a once-in-a-lifetime event, there's a lot of pressure to get it right. If you miss your golf shot there's always another game, but with suicide you only get one chance. If it doesn't work out the way you figured, well, too bad, you missed your chance to get it right because now you're gone!

And maybe the worst thing is you never even get to be sure it DID work out the way you planned!

It's like you planned a big, elaborate wedding for somebody else, but then you left just as it was starting. Maybe you flew off and lived the rest of your life on a desert island. Did the bride walk down the aisle without tripping? Was everyone seated properly at the reception? Did the caterers do their job without spilling anything on anyone? You'll never know!

The only way you get to find out what happened after your suicide is if it fails. You didn't take enough pills. Or the bullet missed your brain. You find yourself in a hospital bed going, "Oh man, this sucks!"

So that's the thing: You really, really don't want to fail, but if you succeed you'll never know!

That's where religions come in. I blame religions for suicide, and here's why:

Religions promote the idea of an afterlife. After you die, you sort of float off somewhere, peering back whenever you wish at earthly mortals in some sort of cosmic vouyeurism. By pushing the idea that you CAN check out the results of your suicide, religions remove that big "what happened next?" barrier.

"I'll blow my brains out, then Suzie will be sorry she turned me down!" As though you'll be able to sit up in a cloud somewhere and chuckle with sadistic pleasure while you watch Suzie beating her breast in guilt and grief.

You can't, you won't, you'll never know. Suzie might turn out not to give a shit. She might not even show up at your funeral. You'll be gone forever, so if you want to be sure Suzie feels like shit, you better stay alive and work on a different plan.

And don't even get me started on Islam and the 72 virgins. "Go blow yourself up in a crowded marketplace or fly an airliner into a skyscraper. Afterwards, you'll spend eternity getting attended to by 72 virgins." Yeah, right.

You'd think at the very least these poor, gullible slobs would ask some pertinent questions before strapping on the explosive belt: "Are all these virgins good looking? How much do they weigh? Who's going to keep them from coming to me whining about annoying, inconsequential bullshit? Do they keep being virgins even after I fuck them? If so, how does that work? Do their hymens grow back right away? Why is that something I would want, anyway? Could I opt instead for 72 deflowered maidens so I wouldn't have to go through all the extra effort of busting their hymens?

Since people apparently fall for something this lame, it's only a matter of time before some enterprising con man will put together some competition. "Don't blow yourself up for Islam, folks, where you only get 72 virgins. Join my new religion, "Malsi", and get twice the virgins! You heard right, 144 prime virgins for each and every time you blow yourself up as your Imam directs! And that's not all! Our virgins are certified to be not over 14 years of age, none are over 100 pounds, and all are 100% acne-free! And if you act in the next half hour, we'll throw in a matron attendant who will supervise your virgins, making sure their petty grievances are all taken care of outside your bed chamber. All you do is fuck, fuck, fuck, for all eternity!"

As the late George Carlin said about religion in his final HBO special,

"It's all bullshit, folks, and it's bad for 'ya!"