I've decided, after reading in the Times that Damien Hirst's work can sell, in TWO days, at aSotherby's auction for roughly 127 mill., that I'm going to contact his manager and ask if when I die, he can dip me in a clear glass square of formaldehyde and then sell me to some wealthy person with more money than they know what to do with.
I figure it'll be pretty much the only time in my life that I'll-
a. be in a mansion
b. be worth a TON of money
c. have people oggle over me incessantly and for no real good reason.
Hey, if an ashtray full of cigarette butts (that get's mistaken for garbage and thrown out) and dot paintings can sell, why can't I?
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