Apologies, man, if you're not into the brevity thing, but I'm keeping this brief.
I died September 9, 2019.
And, now, I'm in heaven.
The Dude abides...
I know what you're thinking: how does the Dude know he's in "heaven"?
Because, first, I haven't seen Richard Nixon here despite looking for him for what feels like an eternity.
And, second, there's my three favorite things in the Universe here: bowling, White Russians, and , my new obsession, WGT golf.
For all of you worried about what happens after you die, don't worry. The first thing that happens is you see a bright light. You walk toward it and a guy with a beard, that looks a lot like Morgan Freeman, welcomes you and gives you an ID card (kind of like the value card I had from Ralph's Supermarket.) It has your name, DOA, Date of Arrival, (they're funny here, they don't say "death"--they say "arrived"), and a swipe thing on the back to get you into what ever amusements you choose.
I'll check back later, but remember, life only begins after you arrive.
Peace,
The Dude