Monday, March 21
What are we doing?
by Me


There is one silver lining to the Terri Schiavo case, regardless of the outcome. It has pretty much assured that the next whacked-out liberal who bemoans the death of any animal can be smacked upside the head in the name of utter hypocrisy. I hope that someone in the Democratic Party knows what they’re doing, because this “we support the killing of innocents, just not the killing of convicted murderers” schtick is getting real old, real fast.
Where the hell is NOW? Hmm?? You’d think they’d be salivating over a story like this. Saving one of their poor, defenseless sisters from the hands of evil and powerful men who want her dead. Oh, wait. It’s a liberal organization. I forgot. Let the bitch die. If only her mom had aborted her when she had the chance, none of us would be bothered with this crap. They have better causes to fight. Like getting papers to hire more (liberal, and only liberal) female columnists.
The entire case hinges upon the word of Michael Schiavo. I may not be the most trusting person by nature, but I sure as hell wasn’t born yesterday. Regardless of whether or not Terri told him she would not like to be kept alive like this, it’s pretty damn obvious to anyone who wasn’t an O.J. Simpson juror that Michael really wants her dead so he can really get her money. Normally this level of persistent desperation to have someone die is reserved for people in line to the throne and participants in the witness protection program. And now, apparently, for Terri Schiavo. If only Scott Peterson had put Laci into a coma first, he could be doing lunch with Robert Blake as we speak. But I digress. Let us strip away all political overtones and focus on exactly what has been happening in Florida since 1990.
Michael Schiavo’s wife is lying brain-dead in a hospice under murky circumstances. After the first seven years, the guy just so happens to remember a chat he had with his wife that went something like, “Yeah, sweetie, if I’m ever lying brain-dead in a hospice under murky circumstances, I totally want you to starve me to death. Ok? Ok.” In a totally unrelated matter I’m sure, the guy has hooked up with another woman and had two children with her. Rather than obtaining a divorce from his brain-dead wife, he instead allows his “new” family to be comprised of what is essentially an adulteress and two bastard children. Why, you may ask? Gee, I don’t know. Maybe if the brain-dead first wife were dirt poor, none of this would be an issue. As it stands, he’ll get a pretty penny when she dies. All that’s standing between this man and a fat check and happy (legitimate) family is one brain-dead woman who just won’t die. What to do? I think the answer’s quite simple, really. You kill her. Duh.
You start by refusing her any sort of medical testing or treatment that could potentially improve her condition. Then you forcibly stop her nurses from feeding her Jell-O, because it makes her look a little too much like a human being. Then you miraculously recall the time she told you that you could totally kill her if you wanted to. All you’ve got to do from that point is find a liberal judge who needs a career-making case before him to make a stand against all those evil right-to-lifers. Voila! Now all you’ve got to do is wait while a woman you once pledged to love, honor, and cherish for all eternity dies an excruciating, protracted death by dehydration. Oh, and you’ll have to explain all this to your kids one day, but you’ll figure that part out later, maybe after you’ve bought them a pony. (You can suggest they name it Terri in memorium)
If any of the above commentary makes you feel nervous, queasy, and/or enraged, then welcome to humanity. There are a lot more babies here, and quite a few less killers, but we hope you like it. Hopefully Judge Whittemore will as well.
 
posted by Jessica at 1:22 PM | Permalink |