What is up tobogganites? By the time you read this I’ll either be sitting in an outpatient surgery center or drooling on myself in a propofol induced slumber as some quack doctor shoves an endoscope down my esophagus.

Now before you fret, know that my doctor told me that his initial diagnosis for me was “Wahhhh your tum tum hurts” so I’m not too worried about what he’s going to find.

But, it got me thinking. Maybe I never wake up? Maybe this is MY LAST DAY ON EARTH and I’ve just wasted the past 33 years?

Who gets the blog, my pride and joy? Maybe my wife and unborn son? Nah, they don’t deserve it. She was snippy to me last night when I asked her to bring in the cordwood for our fireplace and she AGAIN used the excuse of being 7 months pregnant SO SHE GETS NOTHING.

So, obviously everything I write on this blog is legally binding, so here is a living will that I demand be taken seriously in case of my demise.

I bequeath the following to the Coggin fans (all 12 of you):

• My book of Sam Hinkie quips.

• My award winning collection of Polish invention jokes (solar powered flashlight, book on how to read, etc. etc.)

I bequeath the following to Ruben Amaro Jr.:

• A punch in the face for ruining the Phillies. I demand he shows up to my funeral and one of my brothers uses my rigor mortised hand to at least slap him across the chops.

I bequeath the following to Marcus Hayes: 

• A sense of humor.

I bequeath the following to Howard Eskin:

• A sprig of wolfsbane. It is rumored in the old country to reverse the curse of the werewolf.

I bequeath the following to Chip Kelly:

• My corpse for scientific experimentation to improve the Eagles on field performance.

That’s really about all I have left. Maybe I wake up, maybe I don’t? Who know, but hopefully with this tremendous bounty of goods I’m leaving behind nobody will decide to take me out if I pull through.