Friday, April 01, 2005

Tube-steak for the coma-chick: "My name's Buck..."

RSJS writes:

"This is not only a death with all the sadness that brings. This is a killing," said Frank Pavone, a Roman Catholic priest who visited Schiavo shortly before she died. "And for that we not only grieve that Terri has passed, but we grieve that our nation has allowed such an atrocity as this, and we pray that it will never happen again," The Schindlers were backed by conservative religious activists, anti-abortion campaigners, advocates for the disabled, and by mainly Republican politicians. A small group of protesters who had kept vigil outside the hospice calling for Schiavo to be kept alive, sobbed and prayed when her death was announced, and then sang hymns in the morning sunshine.”

Right, my last on Shiva Destroyer of Worlds, the persistent aubergine of drooling tubeless death. She’s gone to a better place blah blah wank. Finally. Rang up the choir indivisible, shuffled off the mortal IUD, whatever.

Now correct me if I’m wrong (He says grinning and gurning maniacally and considering turning off the comments option on this fencepost while touching his nipples) but don’t good wee Catholics go to heaven? The place of candyfloss and feathers and eternal light shining out of God’s own puckered ring? Lots of love and hand-massages and glow-sticks, like a rave that never ends. Raise the roof and point to god indeed.

Whereas when one is in a perspiring ventilated state, one is trapped in a non-functioning sack of rotting meat staring wall-eyed at the redness within your eyelids while machines cram juices and oxygen into you through the now-infamous tubes of doom, and others suck the waste out to fertilise the petunias in the kiddie-cancer ward?

So the choices are joy everlasting with one’s God, or being paralysed and petrified in a carcass and hospital bed as the world turns without you even being aware, a lonely confused purgatory of torment and insanity, if the poor monkey even had enough brains to go bonkers…

She-devil’s parents, claiming to be good Roman Catholics, would rather sentence their own child to an indefinite period of mind-melting incarceration in the failing remains of her body, rather than release her to the welcoming arms of the Big Beard in the Sky. For whatever “She’s our daughter, we want to keep her like this” reason, they advocated this punishment.

1) Terri Showpony’s parents hated her very, very much. Possibly they are afflicted by Munchausen’s syndrome by proxy and would regularly inject rat urine into her veins to keep her comatose. Perhaps they loved the attention of their brethren who admired their overcoming this hardship so nobly. Maybe they just had a lot of rat urine to get rid of. Maybe they just hated their kid as she shat in their Bible.
2) They know Terrible Shivao used to bottle-fuck midgets and would be doomed to hell if she died so kept her in limbo while killing demons in the hope of redressing the bottle-dwarf buggering balance.
3) They weren’t Catholics at all and thought upon death Terri Shagnasty would end up a dirtburger in the local cemetery and they wuvved their little child so hence stretching what little shining existence she had out by hook or by crook.

So there are the choices as I see them. Either they despised their child, or callously lied about their devout faith in the Almighty Facial Hair in Heaven for whatever media-driven reason, or they spawned the antichrist. Now I’m sure out there someone will cite misguided love of a child but any love that wants one to keep one’s child wheeled around like Davros in a half-Dalek, ain’t a healthy love. The poor wretch had been staring at the ceiling for 15 years, either she was counting the dots in the tiles or she was out to lunch. Or she was gazing towards the heaven her parents denied her. Removing the feeding tube allowed their daughter to die and ascend, presumably. Okay, the parents don’t have their Mrs Potato Head child to dress in fresh hospital gowns at Christmas, but the kid gets the hell outta Dodge and into the nectar and ambrosia, joy. So keeping her trapped so they can go “but she’s our little girl” is selfish, which is gotta be a sin with those kooks. Or an alternative, the parents feared that if they didn’t fight they would be deemed culpable in the apparent murder of their child, a big ol’ sin (unless the child is recalcitrant, in which case it’s required) that they didn’t want on their records so again, they were looking out for themselves. Selfish bloody god-botherers.

Now don’t get me wrong, holding on to what one loves no matter what saw my family haemorrhage thousands into time-ravaged injured pets, toothless blind drooling cats and hobbled dogs that loved us and we cared about beyond reason but in each instance eventually we had to look at the wee mites and realise our insistence on keeping them going with money and pain was because we couldn’t say goodbye. And goddamn but I hope they were put to sleep before they started hating us.

Right, justification on Yank-bashing over. Terri’s either worm-fodder, a banjo-strumming angel, or skewered on Satan’s cock right now. So wither she’s too dead to care, to happy to care, or too prolapsed to care about this ramble. And her parent’s get to go on Oprah so everybody’s happy. Well, except the anonymous cock-knockers out there who feel it necessary to say “ooh, nasty Jellybean, tweedle de dee” but well, y’all are doody-heads. No, really.

Oh, and yes, I did just compare Terrence Shitvalve to my dead cat Tosca. What’s your point? The two of them (If St Francis of Assisi got it right) are grooving to the celestial choir while YOU sit reading codswallop in 12 point font on the FUCKING INTERNERD. You BLOA-ted SACK of PROTO-plasm…

***Maintenance update from Diarybot 3000 – Subroutine “Angstzor I CRY v.2 (Beta)” is now offline. “Fluffy Bunny 3.0” installed. Cuteness and light to follow shortly***.

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