Token Terri Schiavo Grandstand, Part Two
(via The American Street)
I’m a member of the PWDGAFF Synod (People who don’t give a flying f*ck) when it comes to that poor exception to the rule that no people actually die, and so my sympathies have been all but dessicated by the cloaca of inescapable coverage.
Granted, they all seem like sweet people, but Lord knows…to air their laundry for all the world to see would not be something I would wish upon my worst enemies.
It’s a complicated case, and one I know next to nothing about…which is why I tend toward abstraction.
In general, I think family trumps spousery. Spice are not blood.
Back when I thought life was a bowl of cherries; a proverbial walk in the park…I would have opted for life eternal. But life is not a bed of roses…or any other dead metaphor. It is filled with suffering, misery, stupidity, war, poverty, and all manner of ugliness…largely of our own devising.
If we want Terri to have eternal life, how ’bout we clean the place up a bit. Make it a better place for her to come to. Instead we are doing the opposite. As such, she might be better off taking flight.
