I'm slowly being pecked to death now; it's called parenting.

Brilliant ! I never imagined.

There wasn't that fun.

whoops I meant:
There, wasn't that fun?

It was, rather. I rather enjoyed your method of conveying this top-notch idea.
Mostly I think about zombies and how they would masticate my appendages until I joined their masses, or maybe just until none of me remained in my normal state.

i'd like to be eaten by a baby box turtle, that way i'll live till i'm like 120

Except, salmonella. BAM.

oh snap

I guess I was wrong... just avoid the baby box turtles with small tags that say "salmonella" in a kind of ugly typeface and you should be okay.

I believe bsweber's fantasy gets to the heart of what makes being eaten alive so enticing for so many. He has suggested that in being eaten by the turtle, he will in effect become a part of that organism. It is this awareness of the fate of our protein and its role as currency in the life cycle that makes the experience of being eaten alive so much more rewarding than say; running futilely from the pyroclastic flow of an erupting volcano or, in something as mundane as a gunfight, "Going down in a blaze of glory" as it were. In these scenarios one would no doubt experience an interesting bouquet of intense emotions that accompany a death experience however, they are missing the key ingredient which gives the experience of being eaten alive its distinct and decidedly savory flavor.

I have been giving much thought to the experience of being eaten by ones own children. One undoubtedly experiences an elation similar to that of a mother spider as her offspring devour her. As this scenario fascinates me so much I have decided to create a rock and roll band of the name Eaten by Children. Further more I would like Devoured by his children to be the epitaph on my tombstone.

With that on your tombstone, it really stands to reason that it should be shaped like a chicken leg or a t-bone steak! :D

will you marry me?

the other day i said in my head "i wish i could just be eaten alive be a giant red knee right now" and then imagined it for half an hour.

i also drew a comic strip in my mind about the event.

I will not marry you. I do not engage in customs or ceremonies as I find them to be typical of primitive ritual and conducive of an atmosphere in which ignorance, fear and war can breed.

As to being eaten by a giant red knee, I believe you have brought a valuable element of creative insight to this forum. You have challenged us all to consider and reconsider not only the organism which might hopefully eat us, but wether we should be so narrow and set in that choice.

The surprise of being eaten by an organism which one had never conceived of would surely be essential to the death experience. Had I lived my life hoping to be eaten by a giant spider and had I, in my autumn years, encountered a giant web, I might have flung my cane aside and hobbled zealously into its silken vortex. The giant spider would have enjoyed yet another meal but I fear I would have found the experience to be empty. It is one thing to hope to be eaten alive and fine to imagine the possibilities, but when each of our own giant red knees comes for us let us hope it is something which we had never imagined.

You also mentioned drawing a comic strip in your mind about the event. In doing this you have reached into the death experience with tiny forceps and extracted the "artistic" element of being eaten alive.
It has been speculated that considering ones own death is linked to the creative drives that an "artist" has.
This leads to the question of weather the consideration of ones own death and the question of "art" is a worthy or fruitless venture in life. I cannot hope to answer this question in a single blogation and it may be that spending ones life meditating upon that question is the point. Your comment has, in a round about way, made me ponder the moments of the potential venomous, whipping tails and digesting tentacles, and weather in being eaten alive a small part of me will be asking, "Is this art?", or will I finally stop asking that question.