Dying rich: masterstroke or cosmic bummer?
In the age of the "salad-leaf rich", death becomes the ultimate irony. A guy with a mansion, a fleet of cars and a Swiss bank account crashes his Ferrari and that's it. Meanwhile, the guy on an average salary who eats cheap cold cuts and drives a twenty-year-old car wonders whether the deceased's yacht was any use. The paradox is nothing new: money doesn't prevent the end, but it does amplify the contrast between what you leave behind and what you had.
The rich man's dilemma in the face of death
The central argument is that the rich man loses everything: pleasures, power, status. One school of thought holds that this loss is so brutal it makes death more painful. Imagine having it all and vanishing in a breath. The poor man, on the other hand, has little to lose; death may even be a relief after a life of hardship. Everyday data illustrates it: while the rich man wept over his last Rolex, the poor man barely left behind an old mattress.
But another voice points out that the rich man, at least, has enjoyed himself. The poor man, if lucky, gets a week of holidays every five years. Death equalizes, yes, but it doesn't erase the quality of the years lived. Hedonism, that Western sarracena engine, makes the rich man value every second more, which is why his end is more tragic.
Transhumanism: the billionaires' wet dream
Here's where transhumanism hops in. Names like José Luis Cordeiro appear in the media promoting biological immortality. Critics see it as a narcissistic delusion of elites who refuse to accept their own finitude. "If they manage to extend life, it will be for themselves, not for everyone else," they say. And they add: overpopulation would make it unviable, but the super-rich couldn't care less. Death, after all, is the only tax you can't dodge, not even with straw men.
The poor man, the rich man and the same scythe
The debate closes with an ancient Chinese saying that's been making the rounds: "Man is born without asking, lives without knowing, dies without wanting." Applied to today's context, it sounds like a sentence for everyone. Some die in a helicopter like Kobe Bryant; others in a hospital bed with nothing but the public healthcare TV for company. The difference is one of nuance, not of substance.
In the end, death equalizes, but the road to it is not the same. And while some dream of living forever, others just hope the end won't hurt too much.
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