As I continue with my periodic list of things that I must do before I leave this illuminant, earthlike planet, I can't help but turn a bit competitive.
Because perhaps the most important thing for me to accomplish before I die is dying after you.
That's right, I must insist that you feed from the bitter trough of mortality before I do.
Surely you concede that Denny has an abundance of grand schemes just aching to come to fruition while your modest aspirations--likely to include some combination of taking a commercial airline flight, learning to whistle the love theme from Saw II and finally getting to second base with Maria Lavacelli--suggest a future far less lustrous than my own.
Don't get me wrong, friend: I'm in no hurry to witness your demise, and have no present plans to accelerate it in any fashion, be it a duel, a drizzle of Polonium 210 in your lemonade or unleashing a bloodthirsty she-jackal into your sleeping quarters.
In fact, since I plan to live to the healthy age of 112, you can yet witness several decades worth of glorious sunrises while still managing to return to humble dust well before Denny Dance does.
Fair enough? Good.
It's settled then.