He died saving women, children and kittens from Nazis...

Worst way to die?
Victim of autoerotic asphyxiation and being found by your kids would be the worst. I'd rather burn for hours trapped in a car than have my son see me hanging from the ceiling fan in high heels and black lingerie with a still-running vibrator stuck in my ass and tranny porn playing on the TV.
I mean, it's not like I really do that, but it would suck to go that way. You guys believe me, right?

I remember there was a thread about this on the old board, and someone wrote something that I can still remember to this day:
"Worst way to die: Your head in a prison shitter, after being the latest victim in a game of 'fill the white guy with gallons of ghetto sperm'."
I don't know why I still remember that.

 

Worst way to die? Death by cheese grater slowly bleeding you alive. Long, painful, and awful. Second might be eaten piece by piece by shark or death like in the movie Open Water (which, incidentally, is the way 3 pro and college football players met their fate a year ago -- trapped in water with only one survivor, but no sharks).

Best way to die? Probably in a room filled with Nitrous. You will go happy and goofy.

 

I think it'd be best to die from some alien experiment. It would be interesting to get abducted, and then used for a higher alien agenda.

Side note: One of my life goals is to get abducted by aliens. I like to make goals I have no control over.

 

If I knew I was going to die in a matter of days-

I'd charge up all my credit cards after emancipating my wife and any heirs.

Then I'd rent a Lambo, opt out of the insurance, and drive it off a cliff

 

Hooray for thread, though there seems to be quite a few people opting for suicide as their way out. Slightly concerning.
As I said earlier, I think the worst way to die would be to drown. I don't like the idea of being conscious as I struggle desperately to retain air and get to the surface.

As for the best way to go out, I think it would be fun to go out in a gentleman's duel. That way I have time to accept my fate and say my goodbyes, and I got to slap some old toff in the face with a glove. Then one well aimed shot and I'm gone, and hopefully taking the old bugger with me.

My tombstone would say, "Died heroically fighting to preserve the last remnants of class and honour in society. We're all going to shit without you now, dangermouse"

 

"The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated"




Really just to throw people off.

Fact: I'm one of those lucky terminally ill people who know how they're going to die, so i've always said i want to go out in a blaze of glory instead.

I mean its way cooler to get bitten in half while wrestling a great white and a bear AT THE SAME TIME, then die from my heart giving out randomly.

 

I want to go out like Tony Montana at the end of Scarface. I would prefer, however, to avoid the incestuous paranoia towards my sister, and I would also hope that more cocaine is involved. Point is, if I have to die, I'm going to take some of the bastards with me.

 

I don't know you, but my idea of a blaze of glory is not a suicidally ignited nuclear weapon. I was thinking more along the lines of a gallantly heroic bayonet charge.

FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIX BAYONETS.

Gets your adrenaline pumping.

 

On a more boring, but totally realistic note, I am a nurse in an ICU so I see the slow, long, lingering deaths from chronic diseases all the time. People who can't perform the normal functions in life on their own, you know, like eating or breathing. To me, that would be the worst way to go....the lack of dignity, the lack of independence, the drain on your family and society. Yet people are still reluctant to let go, like death is the absolute worst thing that can happen to somebody. All of my nursing buddies now that if I ever show up there, just give me an extra healthy dose of morphine. Nobody will ever question you.

I used to think drowning, because I have a healthy fear of the water and can just imagine that feeling of panic, claustrophobia, suffocation, etc. But how long can it last? Not the worst way to go out.

 

What the hell is it with all these threads popping up where I feel the need to be all serious? How about someone start a thread on NASCAR drinking games, or the pros and cons of getting married young. At any rate... this is another thread I can (unfortunately) add a bit of first-hand perspective. I'm going to try to keep this short:

I remember being in elementary school, when I'd go out in the neighborhood on my bike and try to come to terms with the fact that I had a terrible feeling I was going to die young. I wasn't depressed at all as a kid, I just had this feeling -- a really strong feeling -- and I knew if I shared it with anyone (namely, my parents) I'd be sent to counseling and called a crazy. Flash forward about ten years and there I was, 19 years old, in the hospital like one of the patients mentioned above, giving my living will to my mother before a brain surgery that could easily kill me. The brain tumor had taken up a quarter of my cranial cavity, I was ridiculously hydrocephalic, my brain was herniating down my spine yada yada yada no one cares for the details.

At any rate, at least in my personal experience, that "coming to terms with death" route isn't that bad. I wasn't scared, I just accepted it. It was a very realistic possibility, and I was glad at least that I had time to plan for it. I had enough time so that, when it came down to me actually going into the O.R., I knew I was fully prepared, and that my family knew exactly what they meant to me.

I'm all down for going out in a blaze of glory with hollywood explosions behind me as I save a baby pug from a burning building, but I'm sorry, in my experience, nothing quite beats the whole dying peacefully, preparedly, and coherently thing.

[That being said, what I quoted above, has some relevance too: After the surgery (and I may be speaking more to the nurses like mya here), I was absolutely hell bent for leather on staying alive. I was in ICU, and I had (and I heard) people dying around me. Those people were my motivation. I was on morphine, and after several rather strong requests, I was taken off of it because I deemed it a hindrance to my physical improvement. Don't get me wrong -- my life was exponentially better when I was drugged with the good stuff, but I knew it'd hurt my chances of a return to normal, or at least delay them. Being in the hospital was absolutely humiliating, and the lack of privacy, independence, and dignity made me feel like less of a man. It was depressing, but what was more depressing than that was that I might die after having come so close to making it. It's amazing what people can and will do when they're backed into a corner. Sadly, many of the people in that ICU with me, I know, lost the fight. I think that's what happens when you become comfortable in that corner.]

 

I have a few ways to go:

1) Suicide bomb a room full of terrorists and/or child molesters. If I'm gonna die, I'm gonna take some evil assholes with me.

2) Heart attack after a 48 hour marathon fucking session with as many high-end escorts as I could afford (I'm assuming that I am old and my wife is dead in this particular death scenario).

As for ways that I would absolutely not want to go? Alzheimer's. This is a real concern, as there is evidence (albeit inconclusive, but enough to make me worry) that it is hereditary, and my grandfather had it. I joke about it frequently, but if I get to the point where I am shitting myself and can't remember my own name? If I forget my (future) kids? If I forget my wife? Not even just for me, because I'll probably be happy as a pig in shit in oblivious-land, but for my family. Fuck if I want them to go through that. I've seen the effect it has on families and kids, and fuck that.

 

I apologize, I did turn this thread into a bit of a downer when I should have been talking about dying while snorting lines off a hooker's ass, being blown to bits like that first bomb specialist in The Hurt Locker, or being run over while pushing granny to safety out of the track of a speeding bus (carefully, of course, don't want to break a hip). What Samr brings up, which I always forget to mention due to all of those reasons that he states which suck about the hospital, is that some people really can overcome the odds. I guess what I was saying, I don't have it in me. I would succumb to the morphine, just not fight, and slip away into that corner. Good job to you Samr, people with your will don't come around that often and I wish you the best of luck in the future. I am sure it has affected how you view life, how you handle your relationships, etc. Can't come out of that without being a changed man..

 

This guy laughs in the face of those suggestions

So does this guy.

Alt. Focus "Dig for a good time"

 

I agree with anything scenario in which you know it is coming and you have time to contemplate it. I was watching Planet Earth, and they were talking about underwater caves and how there are miles of caves with no air pockets to speak of. Then they explained how diving here is the most dangerous in the world. The thought of diving and having your oxygen malfunction or something of that nature while you are in a fucking underwater cave, miles from an exit, sounds like the worst thing ever.

Also, beheading. Not the swift painless action itself, but rather sitting with your head on the block knowing it was coming. I could hardly watch the Tudors without thinking how ridiculous that must be to sit and know its coming once you extend your arms, gah.

 

I always wanted to die having sex on the up stroke, that way i get another whole stroke out of it...

 

I've always thought slowly passing into sleep forever after a mind-blowing orgasm was a good way to depart–in the arms of a loved one, knowing you've made your last moments together unforgettable.

 

Worst way to has to be falling into a wood-chipper feet first. They'll soak you up with sponges to get you into the casket.

A runner up would be a (perceived) near-fatal incident that happened to me. I was surfing in San Diego, and to my left I saw a dorsal fin pop out of the water heading towards me. I didn't feel fear. I didn't have my life flash before my eyes or anything else like that. I just had a funny thought that I would occupy a small portion of a "death by" chart that statisticians would use.

Turns out that dorsal fin was a dolphin swimming past me. Biggest sigh of relief in my life.

 

Focus: FIRE. Fuck fire. Burning alive is the worst possible way I can imagine dying. Not neccesarily being stuck in a burning house, because apparently you first die of smoke inhallation. I mean more along the lines of being burned at the stake, napalm, or the business end of a flame thrower. In fact, if I could, I would make a deal with the devil that I would die a pretty shitty death just so long as it is decidedly less shitty than burning alive.

Second on my list would be cancer, or some other terribly painful and drawn out terminal illness. And to round out my list of least desirable deaths: Animal attack and having my head cut off on the internet by some crazy muslim terrorist.

If I could choose a way to go, it seems that dying in battle defending my country would be my most preferred. However, since I'm not in the military, that's pretty much impossible. I guess next to that, I'd like to be caught in the cross fire of a gang shootout. Or just shot to death by no fault of my own.

 

"They tried to bury him alive. He buried them dead. Then he gave up the ghost because he felt like it."

I do what I want.