Tuesday, March 22, 2005
PULL THE FUCKING PLUG ALREADY...
There isn't much left to say about the Terri Schiavo fiasco that hasn't already been shouted hundreds of times.
15 years of litigation leaves little unsaid.
This morning at 6:30 a.m., yet another judge said yet again that Terri is fish food. Let's see, that's every court in Florida. Twice. And now the federal district court. Later this week, unless they've gone batshit insane down there in Atlanta, the Eleventh Circuit will affirm the district court.
That leaves the Supremes. Once again, a pivotal battle in the cultural war will be fought in the hollowed halls of D.C., and, frankly, the forces of good haven't been doin' so well there. I wouldn't be surprised to see a 5-4 decision in favor of an injunction with Scalia leading the charge and Thomas raising his head from Anotnin's lap just long enough to cast the deciding vote.
"Our founding fathers were godly men," Scalia, J. will intone, "and they would have wanted that tube to keep pouring goo down Terri's throat until the last bit of her rots away. That's what respecting life means. Careful, Thomas, watch the teeth!"
It's amazing how, in the span of 5 years, we have gone from being the most respected and feared super power in the world to a goddamned, traveling circus side show. The greatest army of all time is getting its ass kicked in Iraq and the greatest deliberative body in the world practically wet itself passing the "Palm Sunday Accord" to shove a feeding tube down the throat of a vegetable.
Someone said irony died on 9/11/01. From then on, awed by the magnitude of that disaster, our country was supposed to be grown up and sober. The days of frivolity and silly games that characterized the '90s were over.
Well, irony died alright, but it didn't leave us mature and reflective. It left us compliant and incapable of separating enlightenment from lunacy.
Terri Schiavo is dead as fried chicken. Let her go.
There isn't much left to say about the Terri Schiavo fiasco that hasn't already been shouted hundreds of times.
15 years of litigation leaves little unsaid.
This morning at 6:30 a.m., yet another judge said yet again that Terri is fish food. Let's see, that's every court in Florida. Twice. And now the federal district court. Later this week, unless they've gone batshit insane down there in Atlanta, the Eleventh Circuit will affirm the district court.
That leaves the Supremes. Once again, a pivotal battle in the cultural war will be fought in the hollowed halls of D.C., and, frankly, the forces of good haven't been doin' so well there. I wouldn't be surprised to see a 5-4 decision in favor of an injunction with Scalia leading the charge and Thomas raising his head from Anotnin's lap just long enough to cast the deciding vote.
"Our founding fathers were godly men," Scalia, J. will intone, "and they would have wanted that tube to keep pouring goo down Terri's throat until the last bit of her rots away. That's what respecting life means. Careful, Thomas, watch the teeth!"
It's amazing how, in the span of 5 years, we have gone from being the most respected and feared super power in the world to a goddamned, traveling circus side show. The greatest army of all time is getting its ass kicked in Iraq and the greatest deliberative body in the world practically wet itself passing the "Palm Sunday Accord" to shove a feeding tube down the throat of a vegetable.
Someone said irony died on 9/11/01. From then on, awed by the magnitude of that disaster, our country was supposed to be grown up and sober. The days of frivolity and silly games that characterized the '90s were over.
Well, irony died alright, but it didn't leave us mature and reflective. It left us compliant and incapable of separating enlightenment from lunacy.
Terri Schiavo is dead as fried chicken. Let her go.
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