Monday, March 21, 2005

It occcurs to me...

that if Terry Schiavo was some homeless wretch living in a ditch next to some Florida Interstate, congress couldn't have cared less if she lived or died. But let the right wowsers get ahold of her cause and start up their irritating yelping, and watch those clowns in Washington jump through the hoop of fire trying to outlaw death with a sort of pro-life bill of attainder.

The whole situation is too sickening to contemplate. Every day in America life support machines get turned off by sons, daughters, spouses, lawyers, and in Texas, thanks of bill signed by then governor George Bush, the hospital's accountants can pull the plug if you haven't got the shekels to pay for the juice. So whats the big deal if Terry Schiavo leaves this mortal coil?

Sadly hundred of people in similar straits die every day by decision of a loved one. Thanks to mixture of advanced medical technology, and primitive health financing, its a decision we will ALL have have to make or our loved one will have to make for us.

Hell Congress just passed a bankruptcy law that all but revives debtors prison, and a budget that cuts alls sorts of medical programs...thus you can turn off mom's respirator just in time to have your assets seized by the Feds who are now apparently gonna become the financial industry's own repo-men.

Somehow though, NONE of this registers with the Praetorian Class. Poor persistently vegetative Terry Schiavo has become a glittering political symbol to the ever restive GOP base-an opportunity like "Swift Boat Veterans for the Truth". Alas we are burdened with a congress of uplifters and utopians, sky grifters and wowsers, snitches and busybodies, pimps and corruptards. their every rotten little political fantasy has become concentrated in the wasted body of that poor woman.

We will no doubt see more of this kind of thing in congress ere long, every time that miserable spite little brat Randall Terry (remember him!?) has some cause celeb he ants to push, Frist and Delay will roll over like hogs in a pen-count on it.

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