I know I was going to announce the winner of the Im Dead Contest on Friday...but Ive gone back to music/music promo mode and Ive not had much time to devote to non-mission critical stuff.

I was far more impressed with the quality of responses than the quantity, but some people out there certainly showed an impressive amount of imagination and creativity in finding novel and unique ways for me to perish in nasty ways.

If you are wondering who the hell is this idiot and what is he talking about?, the original thread is this:

http://hv.greenspun.com/bboard/q-and-a-fetch-msg.tcl?msg_id=002CcL

Since there were several replies of a high order, I have decided to have not only a first prize winner, but a runner up, 3rd place, and so forth.

My original post was this:

Dear friends, As the IMMEDIATE effects of the rollover (I'm still holding my breath on the long term) failed to cause any of the more unpleasant scenarios to occur, I have decided to take a fairly drastic measure to help insure that any future effects of Y2K should be likewise minimized. As many of the more optimistic of the "doomer" pundits predicted, at least one (1) person should have perished as the direct result of Y2K rollover failures. To the best of my knowledge none have. This, in my odd little mind at least, has created a certain Karmic debt for our species that must eventually be paid. Someone must, at least figuratively, die. In order to defend this planet from this possible Karmic retribution I have decided that it should be me. Yes, I know, I AM a wonderful person for making such a brave and selfless sacrifice! So you should now think of me as being dead, more or less. I will for all purposes continue to behave much like a living person, I will still be eating, sleeping, brushing my teeth, having sex, playing my guitar, posting to forums, answering my mountains of e-mail, etc., but do not be fooled by any of this: I am most certainly dead. The only question remaining is how I actually died. This is where you come in. It is now up to you, doomers and pollies alike, to determine the nature of my death. Of course it must be Y2K related. And the more inventively horrific the better. Merely to have a plane fall from the sky and land on my head is not nearly enough. Now a cargo plane full of blenders with malfunctioning embedded chips falling on me resulting in my death from both the initial impact and slow disembowelment is bit more of "the right stuff"! Be creative! I know you all have it in you! The winner, judged by my own ex-self, will receive an autographed copy of my new 11 song album, Hells' Laughter and Heaven's Ache...and anything else I happen to have lying around...old toothbrushes...dirty socks...whatever...it'll be a surprise. I will be attempting to keep the contest open till Friday, and I will be making my judgements over the weekend. In the spirit of attempted good fellowship I will also post this on the Debunker forum. I have a feeling that the pollies there will have a good deal of entertainment conjuring up a most spectacular for myself, a self-professed "doomer", so you'll all have to work very hard to keep up with them! If you desire to hear samples of the music on the album (not yet available for sale...this is NOT a plug), go to my site at http://web.rollin.com/~ludi there are MP3s of 4 of the songs on there for your listening pleasure/displeasure. Feel free to e-mail me if you have any questions, and good luck. John Ludi, dead.

-- Ludi (ludi@rollin.com), January 03, 2000 

Looking over all of the replies from both here and the Dedunker forum, I have to say that this response from Old Git was the best overall, so OLD GIT IS THE WINNER! Here is her submission:

March 16, 2000 Iza Conner, attorney at law Messrs. Paddit, Grabbett & Billum 50 Shark Pool New York, NY 19100 Re: Mrs. John Ludi, III, Inquiry, disappearance of son John Ludi IV Dear Mr. Conner: I have just returned from a trip into the wilds of the North Dakota mountains and it is with deep regret that I inform you of the death of Mrs. Ludi's son, John. Here follow the details: It was a day that began like many others last winter in the mountains. An Alberta Clipper had rushed down from Canada the night before, leaving the landscape a crisp and brittle blending of whites and greys. Fir trees bent their branches to the ground as the weight of the snow forced them inexorably downward. The air itself was still, with the only movement discernible a weak pine branch cracking sharply from the strain and plunging to the earth in a cloud of dusty snow. I parked my Land Rover in front of the cabin and made my way to the door, crunching at every step in the crusty drifts. The door remained closed, but I could hear murmurings and muted laughter inside. I very gingerly opened the door and peered inside. The light from several Aladdin lamps drew my attention to stacks of canned goods and mylar packages, as the restrained flames caught on shiny surfaces. I looked away to the warm and cheerful fire, whose plume of smoke had guided me to my final destination. A woman sat nearby in a Barcolounger, the chair surrounded by empty bottles of single-malt scotch, opened cans which had contained smoked oysters, marinated artichoke hearts and albacore tuna, and discarded styrofoam cups and plastic cutlery. Drunken cockroaches lay unconscious among the trash. A small mouse staggered uncertainly away into a dark corner. The woman, who I took to be John's girlfriend, May Klapse, was sipping more scotch as she speared hearts of palm from a colorful can and olives stuffed with garlic from a slender jar. She was a striking woman, dark coloring and beautiful eyes The unwashed hair and underarm odor detracted a little, but not too much. "Ol' John certainly knew how to prep," she remarked, and laughed quietly, washing down the food with more Glenfiddich. I noticed the past tense immediately, of course, and sat down in a nearby club chair, looking around as I did so. It was a comfortable room, with quilts tacked to the wall and plastic taped to the windows to preserve the warmth of the fire and the woodstove in the kitchen, whose brightly-polished copper pots I could see hanging through the open door. Shelves lined most of the walls, full of boxes, carefully marked with contents and expiration dates. My eyes were diverted from the cases of dehydrated mud as May gave the Baygen another twenty winds. "He's in the frozen meat locker," she said, tossing her head in the direction of the window. I could see an outbuilding not far from the kitchen door, sturdily secured against predators. "Had to put him in there so he didn't go off," she smiled softly, then looked sadly at his musical equipment against a wall. As I helped myself to two fingers of Glenfiddich, May told me the story. A month ago, John had risen as usual and gone outside for snow to melt on the stove for coffee. He came rushing back inside immediately, yelling: "I can hear an engine on the road below the juniper trees!" He grabbed his binoculars and dashed back outside. Returning almost immediately, he choked out, eyes wide and terrified, "It's a white bus! I knew it when I saw those chemtrails yesterday! They think we've been sedated--thank God for the gas masks! And now they've come to take us to the camps!" Snatching up his Mossberg, John ran back outside. May was frantic. John had become increasingly more detached from reality as time wore on at the cabin. He had made bongo drums from empty mashed potato canisters and wax paper and was playing them in favor of his guitar. Lately, he had been wondering aloud how he might make an accordion and asking May if she knew how to polka. She was even more worried because he had never fired his shotgun, saying he was a peaceable man and didn't believe in guns but "all the experts recommended a Mossberg so he thought he should have one. May ran over and checked the boxes of shells: the gun wasn't even loaded. As John half-slid down the hill to the road beyond the junipers, he saw a sight that filled him with dread. Not 50 feet away was a white bus, chugging towards him at 35 miles an hour. A man in a UN-blue cap sat at the wheel, his eyes widening in shock as he saw John at the side of the road, raising his shotgun to his shoulder. The driver explained later he was terrified by the sight of John's face, turned argyric grey from ingesting colloidal silver, his hair coated with Vaseline to kill lice, sticking up in points around an aluminum pie plate hat, and his garlic-clove necklace caught on the stock of the gun. Gesticulating with his UNC cap, the driver described how he aimed his bus at the shotgun-wielding crazy man and pinned him against the rocky hillside, killing him instantly. Wrecking his freshly painted (but not yet finished) church bus, the driver had no means of traveling out of the area. He was test-driving the newly repaired engine and nobody knew he had driven into this remote part of the mountains. I found the driver in the guest cabin, intended by John for those who came begging for hand-outs, sitting comfortably and reading from the crates of books provided. A disassembled ham radio was spread on a table, it having malfunctioned early on. Unfortunately, John had forgotten to stock spare parts and the driver had been marooned for a month. I have returned the driver to the bosom of his happy family and the Medical Examiner's Office is taking care of the body until the snow melts enough to bury John in the middle of the medicinal herb garden he had so lovingly tended. May has decided to stay where she is for the present, saying she has enough to sustain her for another two years and can write the book she has planned for so long now that John and his strange music are gone. About John, she says, "Well, it's a sad fact, but SOMEbody had to die." Please extend my sympathies to Mrs. Ludi. A notarized copy of John's simple will leaving his possessions to May and a cassette tape of his song, "It's not the odds, it's the stakes," to Ed Yourdon, is enclosed, as is my statement for services rendered. Yours sincerely, Nos E. Parker Private Investigator

-- Old Git (anon@spamproblems.com), January 03, 2000. 

It was a very tight race though, the response from Paul Neuhardt ran a very close second, so PAUL NEUHARDT IS THE RUNNER UP! This is what Paul had to say:

IN MEMORIUM: JOHN LUDI Mr. John Ludi, sometimes rock and roll musician and well-known fearer of Y2K calamity, died yesterday of electrocution in a Virginia convienience store. Mr. Ludi, who maintained that his name is not a take on the anti- technology term "Luddite", was known to be pessimistic regarding the outcome of the Y2K crisis. For much of the last several years, one Mr. Paul Milne has been flooding Y2K-related Internet discussion forums with messages insisting that, because of Y2K issues, anyone who lived "within 5 miles of a 7-11 is toast." Mr. Ludi, who lived exactly 2.3 miles from a 7-11 store, was known to have been quite concerned by Milne's prognostications. "John got to where he drove nearly ten miles out of his way to work just so he could avoid 7-11's. He was trying to sell his house so he could afford to move. It was really weird" said a long-time friend who wishes to remain anonymous at this time. "As New Year's day approached, he began to wonder if 5 miles was enough distance to keep between himself and all 7-11 stores. So, he decided to set off to Virginia, look up this crazy Miles, or Mills, or whatever the hell is name is to see how he came up with the 5 mile limit." As he traveled to Virginia to visit Milne, Ludi's car ran out of gas. As he walked down the road, the first location he passed that sold gasoline was a 7-11. Visibly shaken, Mr. Ludi nonetheless entered the establishment and inquired if they had a gas can he could use to haul fuel back to his car. He was told that they did, and the attendant went in to the store room to retrieve the can. While the attendant was gone, Mr. Ludi apparently decided to purchase a hot dog from the self-service food station located in the store. As he reached in to the bun warmer to retrieve a roll for his lunch, his hand made contact with an exposed heating element. In what 7-11 officials call a "one-time, freak occurance that does not reflect the state of food service equipment across the chain," Mr. Ludi was accidentally electrocuted. He was pronounced dead on arrival at a local hospital. Mr Ludi's family, while not giving interviews directly to the press, has issued a statement that reads: "We are deeply saddened by John's death and we will miss him very much. However, given his beliefs and behavior regarding the Y2K issue as it relates to stores in the 7-11 chain, we find it fitting that he died by actually becoming toast inside one of their stores. In a way, it validates his fears and makes it easier for us to accept what we had previously felt was bizzare behaviour on his part. We hope that, wherever he is now, John will forgive us for having used the term 'mad as a hatter' when talking about his Y2K fears." When contacted for comment on the incident, Milne would say only that "I never heard of him before today, but the guy was obviously an ignorant butthead who deserved what happened to him. I hope those Pollyanna bastards at 7-11 burn for eternity for the reckless way they have ignored the Y2K problem and the deaths they have caused by not urging people to prepare for the obvious." When asked to elaborate on this by giving details, Milne uttered a string of profanities and hung up. He refused all further attempts to contact him on his matter. The family is suggesting that instead of flowers, a donation be made to the newly created John Ludi Fund For Electrical Safety Education. The fund is intended to create programs to teach elementary school children the safe handling of electrical appliances, particularly those with opn heating elements such as toasters. The parent company of the 7-11 chain has reportedly made a $200,000 contribution to get the fund started. Donation information can be obtained by calling 555- 1234.

-- Paul Neuhardt (neuhardt@ultranet.com), January 04, 2000.

It was hard to chose between pshannon@inch.com and Larry "Dirt Road" Kollar (from the Debunker board) for 3rd place, so I had to award them a tie. This is pshannons input:

"Jan 2, 2000 -- John Ludi, the musician best known for "Hells' Laughter and Heaven's Ache," which includes the hit single "All Dead Dictators," was found dead shortly after 12 am UTC on January 1, 2000. Initial reports indicated that Mr. Ludi died from a massive brain hemorrhage from the shock of watching Queen Elizabeth II holding hands with British Prime Minister Tony Blair during the ABC News coverage of celebrations from London's Millennium Dome. After an autopsy at Chicago Hope Hospital, neurosurgeon Dr. Aaron Shutt released this statement to the press: "On April 1, 1999, in this hospital, I performed a surgical implant on Mr. Ludi. The procedure was called a "Mental Music Machine" implant, and basically, what this means is that a small micro-computer chip set was installed in Mr. Ludi's skull. This micro-computer allowed Mr. Ludi to plug his brain into a recording device, and download the music that he heard in his mind in the MP3 format. This is one of the reasons why Mr. Ludi's music was considered to be so damn weird. However, during the autopsy, it was discovered that an Allen-Bradley processor, which was part of the chip set, was not Y2K compliant. This caused the tune which happened to be going through Mr. Ludi's head at the time of his death to reverberate to such a degree that his brain, well, literally exploded. If he had a more pleasant tune playing in his mind at the time, this may not have happened. But, there is no accounting for taste." Services will be held as soon as a location can be secured that is willing to host Mr. Ludi's odd assortment of friends and associates. Mr. Ludi is survived by, well, no-one who wishes to be named publicly. In liew of flowers, donations can be made to the Norton I, Emperor of the United States of America children's wing at Chicago Hope Hospital."

-- (pshannon@inch.com), January 03, 2000 .

And this is Larrys:

Musician Dies in Freak Y2K Accident CHICAGO (DSN) - John Ludi, a local musician, was killed at the stroke of midnight Saturday morning due to a Y2K "embedded system" failure.

According to eyewitnesses, Ludi was reaching for a beer on the bottom shelf of his refrigerator when the embedded chips in his microwave underwent a catastrophic Y2K failure, blowing the door open and turning on at full power. The resulting beam of microwave energy struck the TV set, causing it to explode and inflict minor injuries on Ludi's guests.

The beam was then reflected to a mirror, which bounced the beam into the bent-over Ludi's buttocks. The beam passed straight through his upper torso, killing him instantly and causing the beer he was clutching to begin boiling. "It was over just like that," said a guest who asked not to be identified. "He was dead before we finished saying 'Happy New Year.'

"The thing was, he didn't even move. He was just standing there, fried to a crispy crunch, beer fizzing over, and God the stench." The guest become hysterical shortly thereafter, and was not available for further questions.

Funeral services will be held at the Milne Rotisserie downtown.

-- Larry "Dirt Road" Kollar

ALL OF THE WINNERS ARE ENTITLED TO A FREE COPY OF MY CD, HELLS LAUGHTER AND HEAVENS ACHE. (I will also likely include some other fun things I have lying around, the higher the prize, the more I will send...and itll have to be a surprise what the other items turn out to be, seeing as that I have no idea what they are yet myself.)

Now for some dishonorable mentions:

A rather odd and somewhat confused-sounding entity called Doc Paulie (who evidently has some difficulty with the notions of sex and music) posted this unhappy screed on the Debunker board:

Posted by (209.170.209.160) Doc Paulie on January 03, 2000 at 08:04:28:

In Reply to: I'm Dead: CONTEST! posted by John Ludi on January 03, 2000 at 07:34:46:

26year-old man scaled a light pole on the Strip in front of the Paris Casino. Grabbed a live wire and fell head-first to his death.

Stupidity KILLS, get a life John. I would recommend you ditch all the paranormal reading and linking and sit still so THE MAN can help you again,,,get it?

You were wrong about Y2k cause you be LOST. The fact you weren't the guy on the pole should show the Love the GUY has for you, ever the patient one. How many more years are you going to waste with your "music"? your "sex"? and mountains of non-existent "email"? are you that much of a Doomer?

How is it possible a boy living on rice and living in a grass hut in the outbacks of Australia can find joy in playing pick-up-sticks, but you, sit pondering posting Death Games over phone lines?

You were right about one thing, you are DEAD, spiritually.

Good day

I have to admit to a certain amount of difficulty following Doc Paulies missive...I must assume that THE MAN=the GUY=GOD? Some of you more familar with Doc Paulie could help me on this Im sure. Well, not to be outdone in terms of misanthropy aimed in my general direction, Dan on the Debunker board had THIS to say:

Posted by (208.8.55.50) Dan on January 03, 2000 at 10:28:42:

In Reply to: I'm Dead: CONTEST! posted by John Ludi on January 03, 2000 at 07:34:46:

It seems to me you were dead long ago and you are merely having retoactive guilt for not acting so! Please dont be so harsh on your self i am sure there are many theorists of the human condition who will profit from this whole farse and would love to study the likes of you! Join the world and quit bringing it down its time to pay that Karmic debt but not thru stupidity but thru enlightenment! Thank You The original optimistic Asshole! Dan

Neither of those responses qualified as they didnt even mention a cause of death (however the latter did present an interesting way of spelling the word farce), but they were amusing in their overall level of pointless anger and vitriol. Someone else on that board posted a sentence about my dying from drinking dog piss out of a rusty hubcap like Milne said, and another person offered a brief outline of a Mad Max type scenario where Im killed by mohawked ex-yuppies that brought a smile of joy to my face, but they paled by comparision to the longer and more thoughtful depictions of my demise by the winners above.

So I thank you for your participation. If you would like to claim your prizes, you will need to e-mail me privately to give me your address...I promise I will not do anything unethical with it like writing it on a bathroon wall...really, Id never do a thing like that...trust me...

And, sadly, here is also where I must bid you all farewell. Ive only been on a few months, but I have derived a great deal of pleasure from reading all of your posts. It has been interesting and informative and was very helpful in my own preps. But it now seems that we will all just have to wait and see what the long term effects are now that the BIG SCARY CRISIS THING did not manifest, and I just dont have the time to engage in this activity in any hands on sense. I will be lurking here from time to time...and posting if I happen to hear something juicy or if someone just presses the wrong button and pisses me off, but Y2K has taken up far too much of my time already. It seems that the dull-witted and complacent masses...the cud-chewers, have been granted yet another undeserved reprieve from self-destruction.

WE could take this chance to re-evaluate our place in the cosmos, to understand that all things ARE interconnected, to realize that our actions DO matter, and to change the way we live our lives and strive for the betterment of ourselves and the healing of our planet...but I bet we wont. In fact, I bet well all probably drink more beer, watch more pro-wrestling, read more romance novels, and consume ever more obscene amounts of useless crap while our biodiversity vanishes right before our myopic and unseeing eyes.

So it goes.

Those of you wanting to keep in touch may feel free to do so, the e-mail IS real. The URL to the John Ludi website is: http://web/rollin.com/~ludi

Take care, try to live good lives, stop breeding just for the sake of it, eat less meat, plant something green, and try to be nice to each other...unless someone REALLY irritates you on purpose.

Bye now...

Ludi the Lurker.

-- Ludi (ludi@rollin.com), January 08, 2000

Answers

Sorry, that's: http://web.rollin.com/~ludi

And my apologies for the formatting...it was a mystery to me how to get it right and I apparently didn't...sorry!

John Ludi.

-- Ludi (ludi@rollin.com), January 08, 2000.

Paul Neuhardt, quick! Press the button for instant replay... you got screwed buddy.

So long, and good luck Ludi.

-- just another regular (none@none.noe), January 08, 2000.

I was entertained, thanks.

-- Guy Daley (guydaley@bwn.net), January 08, 2000.

Old Git----you just crack me up!!!! That was a WONDERFUL piece of writing. I haven't laughed so much since Gilda started reading her will to us!!! (I know a certain cockroach that could use writing lessons - also lessons in creativity, style, and manners!)

-- LongTimeLurker (LongTimeLurker@lurk.com), January 08, 2000.

Old Git: I think I may be acquainted with the law firm you mentioned. Aren't they next door to my attorney's office, named Dewey, Cheatham, & Howe ??

-- Regular Viewer (Regular Viewer@view.com), January 08, 2000.

Zounds! If I can achieve this on over-the-counter sinus meds, I wonder what I could do with the prescription variety? Modern medicine is a wonderful thing, and I'm so glad I have another 143 packs of suphedrine in reserve--just in case, you never know.

John, I'm sorry you're leaving us since you were obviously an inspiration to us, especially me . I don't know what kind of music you do--will it scare the cats? If it will, I'll give it to Sweetie--he enjoys contemporary noise. (Possibly because it drowns me out.)

P.S. Did you want the money in small, used bills or will 100s do?

-- Old Git (anon@spamproblems.com), January 08, 2000.

Hands down and thumbs up, Old Git rules!

-- dinosaur (dinosaur@williams-net.com), January 08, 2000.

Old Git: Terrific!! (Sounds of hands clapping!!!) You are a wonderful writer with such WIT!! Thanks loads!

-- cjb (cjb_bcf@yahoo.com), January 08, 2000.

Ludi,

A few paragraph breaks for easy reading ? Petty, I know. Thanks.

-- Rob (maxovrdrv51@hotmail.com), January 08, 2000.

I can't stop laughing over the 7-11 story.You must know why.

-- lurker (lurker@sit.com), January 08, 2000.

My congratulations to Old Git. I will confess that after I read her post, I almost didn't contribute mine, fearing it would not measure up. Also, I was having a hard time seeing my screen after laughing so hard.

-- Paul Neuhardt (neuhardt@ultranet.com), January 08, 2000.