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Let’s face it, one day you’ll all die. On the bright side, no one will care. But someday, the tacolord may die and it shall be the worst tragedy to befall man since those among us put down fences and dug ditches to claim the land for their own. Being the great saint that I am, I have prepared in advance the plans for my passing to help curve the suicide spike that is sure to follow.

The first step will be cremating my body. Chances are, I’ll die on a couch or in a computer chair. Just burn it and everything in the room; everything belongs to me anyway. If it doesn’t, too bad. By my Taconian birth right, I must take everything in the room with me. Then burn everything else that belongs to me or may, it's mine and you can't have it.

The ashes should be stored in something classy, something that says burial chamber. So everyone hallow out several 8 bit Nintendos (now dubbed the
"Nintendo Urn") and carry my ashes inside them. This will be a temporary storage until my sending takes places. A few cases shall be saved for the Temple of Taco, whoever I'm dating (and Erica Campbell if she wants one) and a few world governments wishing to erect shrines as cover-ups for genetic cloning projects known as Operation Taco. Clever slogans should be placed on the Nintendo in gold lettering. Something like, “Load the saved game already!” “In heaven, we can see you pee.” “Last Words: ‘This is going to be awesome!’”

*Warning* playing Nintendo with Tacolord’s ashes may have side effects

A council of gamers must assemble, ideally TJ and two others with good taste in women. So no David or Matt.

This council will form around a space ship, preferably an X-wing or A-wing star fighter. None of that prequel or Y-wing bullshit. The hottest women will be gathered and judged in a harsher manner than they were in high school by this group to determine who is best suited to send off the tacolord. Several women may skip this step if they carry a golden voucher ticket given to them by the tacolord in sound mind during his life. At least 6 to 4000 women will be chosen of the initial millions. The lucky ladies to make it through the first round of the auditions must wash the space ship in a bathing suit (it doesn’t have to stay on). Next, the women must make out. The best of the group will be chosen to send off the tacolord. We wouldn't want a chick who can't engage in the beautiful art of tonguing another woman to send the Taco, no matter how hot and Brazilian she may be.

For the sending, my ashes will be placed underneath the sheets of a large bed. The women will dress in ceremonial cat and elf girl outfits and proceed to engage in sexual intercourse over my remains. At one point, all of the girls will focus on a single individual to develop a sexual debt in her for the Tacolord in the next life, ensuring I have a good time in the afterlife.

After the traditional lesbian orgy, my ashes and the bio juices will be transported to a clear area of land in the heart of a large city. A park/playground will be erected by my mourners and at the base of a large slide my ashes shall be buried. So that all who slide down, will slide to my grave. Everyone attending the funeral must ride to my tomb at least once, but no cuts. Make sure you mix my ashes well in the dirt, I don’t want anyone messing around with my remains soaked in love juice! In fact, place a small concrete barrier between myself and the top and ensure some guards are on duty for some time. At least until the trees and local plant life have been infused with my essence and female love power. At this point, my revenge on the living world shall begin! With my mortal coil shed I shall return as the Taconian Goddess of Chaos and reap the world of the seeds of oppression planted in my former life! As death’s faint whisper echoes across all lands, the new master of humanity will rise above all life and claim it as its own. Sending a chill of hopelessness down the spin of all who breathe my air.