Would you behave like a prick if you knew that a book would be written about you?


You know what got me thinking lately? Would people, I thought to myself, still behave like total pricks – or prickesses – if they knew there would be a book written about them after they kick the bucket? (Politicians, lawyers, bankers and liberals generally are not included in this sample of people as they don’t care what people will think of them as long as they can earn as much money as possible so an idea of a book does not worry them.)

But for a lot of others people this might sound like a weird question. Why would anyone write a book about me, they may ask themselves, and all that? But if you think about it for a brief moment, it actually makes sense.

If you knew for sure that there’d be a book written about you once you die, would you want it to tell how you wasted your life on stupid things, let others down and was basically a total prick – or prickess? And would you want it to say that you were a drunk, a slob, a slut, and lay on the couch all day watching trash on the box? So that the people reading the book about you, would think: “What a jerk, a total waste of space! I wish I didn’t even bother to read this crap. Better tell others to avoid it.”

The thing is that every life can be turned into a book – every single one. Some people even say that it actually happens, but I don’t want to go into this now. I’m just assuming that it could happen to anyone. And I reckon if it does and people recognise this then they probably would start avoiding doing many of the stupid things that they do otherwise and thinking nothing of it.

Let’s face it: no one would want a book about them to come out and tell a story of a pathetic loser who gets on the wrong track from an early age and never really achieves anything. Who would want to be described as a grey non-entity, who had spent most of the time doing pretty much nothing, apart from drinking, smoking, shagging and sitting in front of the television sucking beer, eating junk food and watching trash? Or playing idiotic computer games for hours each days or watching porn on the Internet with the right hand getting much more developed than the left one?

In fact, it would be very embarrassing, even if you’d be dead by then, because a lot of people whom you knew might still be around, including your kids. And it would be really tough to imagine them reading the book about you and thinking: “Boy, was he an idiot!”

So, as I was saying, anybody’s life can be turned into a book. And if you think about it a bit more, you’ll actually figure out that your life IS a book, of sorts, with a many chapters and the epilogue. Yes, there’s always the epilogue, the conclusion. And it’s basically up to each and every one to see to it that the book about them is not some trashy one – right up to the last page. So even if the first several chapters in that book of yours didn’t turn out as you’d have wanted it to be, you can see to it that the remaining ones improve, with the epilogue becoming a real corker of an ending. In a good way, that is.