This won’t kill you, I am here to tell you. Well, Carrot Top might.
I want to fucked to death by Winona Ryder.
Might take a while…
But, if they won’t let me do that…
Electric chair right after a huge meal of Mexican food, beer, ice cream, corn, beans, milk, lots of cheap whiskey, etc…
If it’s gonna be unpleasant for me, it’s damn well gonna be unpleasant for them, too!
I’m with RealityChuck - chased over a cliff by a mob of topless women wearing skater elbow- and knee-pads.
And Bob Cos, the Benny Hill music is Wakety Sax
Large heavy weight chained to my ankle, the push the weight over the side into deep water.
Very deep water.
I’d just like to be set on the ocean in a boat with some food. I could float as long as the food lasted, then slip into the water.
Or maybe just put on the North or South Pole with food. I want to die isolated and alone and calmly.
The injection is the only way to go. No muss, no fuss.
I wanna do the Dale Earnhardt thing. Spectacular crash in front of thousands of my adoring fans, with millions more watching on TV, great weaping and wailing thereafter.
Or, high risk, low probablility of success mission to assinate Osama bin Dickhead.
The only way I can imagine that killing you would be if chewing were involved. You sure?
Daniel
If we’re talking about a vaguely realistic sort of execution here, then I vote for the firing squad. It would have to be done properly, though - I’d have to stand in front of a bullet-ridden wall, calmly puffing away on my final cigarrette in a supremely cool fashion. Then I’d stub it out beneath my heel, manfully refuse the blindfold, and stare my killers right in the eye.
When asked if I have any final words, I’d come up with something pithy, stirring, and epically heroic. Tears would flow at the nobility of my words, which are dutifully recorded for posterity and which will live on through the ages to inspire and galvanise all those who would fight against tyrrany and injustice.
Finally, when the order is given to fire, I take all the bullets full in the chest, slumping slowly down to the red-stained earth to rest in peace and legend.
Failing that, I’d be pelted with mini-marshmallows by a blind pelting-squad during a torrential downpour, and tied up with strawberry liquorice.
quote:
Originally posted by Gassendi
Death by blowjobs from Playmates. Now THERE is a painless death!
Cannibal Zombie Playboy Bummies! And Lions! And Tigers! And Bears! OH MY!:eek: 
I’d like to be used to perform an experiment; I would be decapitated by guillotine, but with all the equipment standing by to reinstate the flow of oxygenated blood to the head, hopefully restoring consciousness long enough to answer questions as to whether I lost consciousness immediately upon decapitation.
I’d like them to try to keep my head conscious as long as possible artificially, but it would still be a death sentence in due course.
Note to anyone reading this: I only want the above to happen if I amd accused and convicted of some capital offence somewhere; I don’t want any old Joe just turning up on my doorstep and doing it to surprise me.
[packs up guillotine gloomily]
He *said[/] he wanted it…
mumble mumble mumble…
[sulks and dejectedly drives away]
Shot out of a giant catapult or trebuchet straight into a brick wall during the Super Bowl Halftime Show.
I don’t think this would work. Your body would go into extreme shock. I don’t think you could answer questions if we just cut off one of your legs. Plus, how are you going to answer questions, you can’t talk? Blinking?