i have few goals left in my pathetic, failed life. one of them, as veteran readers of this blog will recall, is not to die by auto-erotic asphyxiation. the other is not to die at the hampton inn after an injection designed to enlarge my buttocks. i may not be the david hume of the twenty-first century, but i feel that it's doable not to leave as my legacy the world's most, as it were, mortifying obit.