Well, after he dies. He’s going to be cryogenically frozen after he dies. It’s not like Simon Cowell just decided to call it a day and go ahead and gear up for the future. Jeez.
Here‘s Simon’s reasoning for his decision:
“It’s an insurance policy. If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. But if it does work, I’ll be happy. If it’s possible – and I think it will be – why not have a second crack? Does that sound crazy? I think it’s a good idea. I have a feeling that if I don’t do it, I could regret it in 300 years.”
I don’t think it sounds crazy in the sense that he needs to get a mental evaluation, stat, I just think it sounds crazy in the sense that wow, the real world’s getting mighty science fiction-y. For instance, did you know that people are in the process of creating alligator chickens? And this is real life. That’s bananas.
You know what else is bananas? The notion that Simon Cowell could potentially be talking trash and kicking game at our great-great-great-great-great-great (add or subtract as many greats as you need to, I never said I was good with numbers) grandchildren. Would you want that for your offspring?