According to The Death Test, I’ve got another 36 fun-filled years before popping my clogs. July 30th, 2038, to be precise, which annoyingly means that I’ll live to see the Y2.038K problem come to pass. I’m probably going to die of cancer, although I’m taking that with a pinch of salt since I allegedly have a 13% chance of dying of auto-fellatio, something that would doubtless kill me right now if I tried it, let alone if I were 62. I’ve also got my doubts about the statistical validity of the test data, since, according to the closing page, just under quarter of a million test-takers have leprosy. Cheered me up, though; if I get hit by a bus can my estate sue for a breach of the Trades Descriptions Act? ——-
36 years to go
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