Killing Grandma to Kiss the Zeitgeist.

Photo Source: Flickr Creative Commons by Miran Rijavec https://www.flickr.com/photos/miran/

Photo Source: Flickr Creative Commons by Miran Rijavec https://www.flickr.com/photos/miran/

Poor Brittany Maynard.

Brittany Maynard was a young woman who had terminal brain cancer. She opted to kill herself. She used assisted suicide as her method. She did this in a highly-publicized way that made her the poster girl for assisted suicide advocates, everywhere.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, her actions have inspired a number of states and one municipality to jump on the assisted suicide bandwagon.

Poor Brittany Maynard.

She not only had to face God with her own murder on her soul, but she may very well end up being indirectly responsible for  the medical murders of countless other people.

Make no mistake about it. Assisted suicide is murder. In fact, it is murder done twice. The person murders themselves. And doctors who assist in this murder them, also.

I am aware that suicide is a difficult subject to discuss in these terms for the simple reason that much of the time, the person who commits suicide is basically out of their minds. Depression and despair can create a mental fog that makes clear thinking temporarily impossible. Does God give these people a pass? I don’t know.

I only know what I learned from a person close to me who almost committed suicide. This person was in the emotional depths of hopelessness and despair. What stopped them was that they heard a voice telling them to stop, that they could not face God having done this. Was it their guardian angel who spoke to them, or was it the Holy Spirit? I lean toward guardian angel, but, of course, I don’t know.

The important point for the purpose of this blog post is that it was made clear to my friend that suicide does not get a free pass on the other side. In fact, it was clear enough to stop them from killing themselves and take suicide as an option away from them forever.

Assisted suicide is much more deliberate than the action I’m describing. So far as the doctor who participates in it and the politicians who vote for it are concerned, it is  planned and considered cold blooded murder.

How does God judge all this? I don’t know. But after my friend’s experience, I am sufficiently certain that suicide is a grave matter to say without reservation, “Poor Brittany Maynard.”

I would add poor idiot politicians who vote for this, and poor indifferent judges who find for it. When you are in political office, sophisticated arguments in favor of every evil humans can devise come at you from all directions. You are flattered, cajoled, threatened and “reasoned” with on a continual basis.

People who get elected without having thought these things through on a deep, deep level are easy prey for these manipulations. For instance, one formerly pro life legislator I know can not even sit down and have dinner with me without going off in a rant over abortion.

Why?

He got “reasoned with” and had things “explained” to him until he got completely turned around on what he knows down in his heart is the right thing to do. He betrayed himself because he allowed these master confusers to confuse him. And I, even though I am now out of office, stand as a contradiction to all this. I bother him, big time, so he tries to start fights with me about abortion every time we’re together.

That happened a lot when I was in office. I had people yelling at me because they had to vote on pro life bills that made them miserable every single time one of those bills came up. They would cast their vote, then come back to my desk and say something ugly to me. It did not matter if I was the author of the bill or not.

I serve much the same purpose for a few bloggers and commenters here at Patheos. They try to take it out on me that they are doing all the wrong things, and down in their hearts they know it, but they are slaves to their public personas and public affiliations. They do what they know is wrong, and then they look for someone else to direct their moral indigestion onto.

That’s what a conflicted conscience does to people.

There is no more conflicted conscience than someone who is so enthralled with the zeitgeist that they commit dastardly deeds on its behalf.

And assisted suicide is a dastardly deed. It is murder.

It is medical murder.

It is perversion of the medical license to heal into a license to kill.

Assisted suicide, as well as abortion, is a Mengele factory in our medical community. The fact is, that some doctors enjoy doing this. They are true killers. Assisted suicide laws tear down the legal protections concerning human life and set these killers free to ply their trade at will.

Four states have legalized medical murder.

Montana’s assisted suicide law was legislated by a runaway court. In Montana, it is legal for doctors to kill people at all ages, right down to the tiniest baby. There is no requirement that victims be terminally ill.

Oregon and Washington passed voter referendums allowing medical murder in their state. They set the lower age for victims at 18 years. Vermont is the only state so far to pass an assisted suicide law through its legislature. It, too, sets the lower age limit at 18 years. All three states require that victims be certified as having less than six months to live.

These things sound as if some states at least tried to set limits on medical murder. But once you legalize murder, controlling it is a bit difficult.  In practice these protections have turned out to be political salve. People are killed in violation of the protections in these states.

Thanks to Obamacare, my mother is constantly harassed about end of life directives every time she enters a hospital. Not only that, but I’ve caught nurses trying to get her to sign an advanced directive stating that she wanted food and water withheld. They do this when I’m out of the room.

My mother actually had the pen in her hand, and was going to sign until I waylaid the whole thing.

If this trend toward legalizing medical murder continues, I have no doubt that the day will come when you and I will be harassed and confronted about signing to have ourselves and our loved ones murdered in exactly the same way.

It won’t be long before we’re hearing that every doctor must be trained in administering assisted suicide and that Catholic hospitals are being sued because they won’t perform assisted suicides. We’ll read stories about non-profit organizations faced with losing funding if they won’t refer for assisted suicides.

Then, there will be the big debates about how we can’t pass legislation for domestic violence and human trafficking because they don’t pay for assisted suicide and if we gave a care about these poor women we’d give them access to assisted suicide. I’m pretty sure that at some point, we’ll start hearing Martin Luther King, Jr quotes used to justify assisted suicide.

This will happen. Just hide and watch.

As I said, an increasing number of states are considering the option of dealing with Medicaid costs by legalizing medical murder. They do this under the guise of “compassion” for the dying.

That’s nonsense. If they had “compassion” for the dying, there are all sorts of things they could do that would help both them and their caregivers.

But killing grandma is easier and cheaper than taking care of grandma.

And that, not compassion, is the bottom line with medical murder.

 

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Robin Williams is Dead. Does that Mean We Win?

 

I confess. I haven’t been all that interested in the obsessive coverage of Robin Williams’ death.

My feelings about Mr Williams before his death were generally positive but mostly disinterested. I enjoyed his movies and wished him well.

I knew, as soon as I heard that he had died, that we would be in for another of these 24/7 whatevers that the media does when someone famous dies. Sure enough, I flipped briefly to the news last night, and I saw a talking head interviewing one person after another eulogizing Mr Williams.

I don’t want to say anything bad, negative or dismissive about Robin Williams, his tragic suicide, or the hell his family and the few people who truly loved him must be going through right now. I’m also not going to say anything faux profound about depression or suicide.

What I do want to write about is one thing: Why?

Why do we go into these orgies of obsession every time someone famous dies?

It is so predictable and so bizarre that I am beginning to think that these griefathons serve some sort of purpose for us as individuals. The media is consistent about intoning gravely that we are engaging in a “national mourning” and then carpet-bombing our senses with what begins as worshipful eulogies spiced with titillating details about how the person died, and finishes with sordid details about their personal failures and picadillos.

It’s a script. The media follows it like a cooking recipe, and we eat it up like it was dessert.

What’s the purpose? I don’t mean the obvious purpose of getting ratings and a kind of prurient interest in other people’s pain, but what is the real purpose for this obsessive and downright irrational behavior?

And it is irrational. Because, my friends, you didn’t know Robin Williams. You didn’t know Michael Jackson. Or Sonny Bono. Or Princess Diana. Or Marilyn Monroe.

You didn’t know any of them.

They were two-dimensional representations of themselves on big screens and little screens and videos to you. This does not belie the fact that they were people and that other people loved them deeply and suffered the extremes of grief and emotional dislocation when they died.

But the fact is, you are not one of those people. You did not know them. You did not love them. Before their passing, you did not even think about them all that much.

But the minute they die, we focus on them and the endless blabbing about their “contribution,” “genius,” and their saintliness begins and goes on for days and weeks until we finally wear it out and turn to something else.

We stop working, stop talking to our families, stop thinking about paying the bills and taking the dog for a walk, just plain stop our lives and sit transfixed in front of the tube watching hour after hour of celebrities being interviewed by talking heads who are themselves celebrities, saying the same trite things over and over about the newly departed. We are like spotlighted deer, staring at the images of this person we didn’t know and pushing ourselves to a kind of vicarious grief over their death.

Later, as the inevitable take-down starts and the tawdry details of their lives drip through, we extend the obsession into fascination and tut-tut our way through more wasted time and energy.

What’s going on here? People give whole days and weeks of their lives over to emotion about someone they never met, and then turn around in six months or a year when another big celebrity dies and do it again.

What are they getting out of it? What beast in the subterranean oozy places of our minds is this feeding?

Maybe it stems from that thing we know but don’t really believe: Our own mortality. Does this have something to do with an affirmation that Robin Williams/Michael Jackson/Sonny Bono/Princess Diana/Marilyn Monroe are dead … but we are alive?

Is this a backdoor way of dealing with the fact that we are all going to die and that this knowledge haunts us all of our living days? Robin Williams threw away the one thing that any of us ever truly possesses: His life. He refused years of living.

I don’t want to say anything about suicide or depression. I have no deep thoughts to add to that conversation. But it is a fact that Robin Williams revoked his own lease on life. He gave up what most people would fight with everything they had to keep: Life.

I have no doubt that this titillates us.

But what makes it writ large is that he had everything that the gods of this world have taught us makes life worth living. He was a success on an international scale. He was up there as high as you can get in his very public profession; one of the handful out of the billions who walk this planet today. He had more money than we can count and the adulation of millions. He had everything we have been taught to spend our lives striving to get; every “if only” we think would make us happy and fill the holes in us that keep us awake at night.

That fascinates because if affirms in a silent sort of way that maybe all those things we’ve been taught to want and never got — the fame, success, endless money and pretty young things on our arms — don’t matter all that much after all. If the rich and famous can tumble to our feet like this, then maybe we aren’t missing all that much. Maybe we’re more ok than the same media that is now riveting us to Robin Williams’ death tells us we are.

Maybe our old jalopy and our two-bedroom house with the leaky faucet and our humdrum jobs that bore us to tears and our sadistic bosses from hell aren’t all that bad after all.

Because there’s this: He/She/They are dead. And we’re not.

Maybe the fascination lies in the fact that if the richest and most successful among us can die by their own excesses or even their own deliberate intent, then, maybe, in spite of all their glitzy success and our lackluster workaday lives, we, in fact, win.

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Where are all the good people dead: In the Heart, or In the Head?

Here are the facts.

  • Fifteen year old girl attends a party in one of the elite zip codes in this country.
  • She drinks. Maybe she drinks too much. Maybe her drink was doctored.
  • What is certain is that she was raped by boys she thought were her friends.
  • The boys put graphic photos of the rape on the internet.
  • The girl hanged herself.

I have had to deal twice with situations like this in my job as a representative. One was a girl who killed herself after a gang rape by five men who took photos and showed them around, including to the police. When the police told the girl there were photos, she went home, got in the bathtub and killed herself with a shotgun blast to the face.

The other girl tried to kill herself. After four days in critical care, she survived.

I’m going to post an excerpt of an article about the little girl who hung herself. I want to talk about the attitudes that show through this article. I have no grievance with the person who wrote it. They’ve just fallen into our societal trap of cleaning up what should be faced and excusing that for which there is no excuse.

The article begins by saying that 15-year-old Audrie got drunk at a party and when she woke up, concluded that she had been “sexually abused.” Let’s get our terminology straight. She concluded, probably due to some grisly physical evidence, that she’d been raped.

Remember that word: Rape. It’s ugly and people don’t like it. But the word isn’t the real ugliness. The ugliness is living in a society where 15-year-old girls can be treated like this and then suffer the further indignity of having reporters try to clean the horror up for the perps with the use of “soft” expressions like “sexual abuse” to describe what happened.

These upstanding young men posted “graphic” photos of their rape of their friend on Facebook. After Audrie saw the photos on the internet, and endured the mockery of emails and texts circulating about what had been done to her, eight days after she was raped, she hung herself.

According to our reporter, “the case underscored the seeming callousness with which some young people use technology.”

Is that what’s this “case” is about? “Sexual abuse” and “callous” use of technology? 

If we accept this kind of bland obfuscation of the brutal rape and murder by suicide of this young girl as a problem with technology and “cyber-bullying,” we need to burn our Member of the Human Race Card and go sit in the corner with the trolls and monsters of our deepest darkness.

To paraphrase a line from the movie Grosse Point Blank, where are all the good people dead:  In the heart, or in the head? 

Let’s get one thing clear: I don’t talk about misunderstood mass murderers and rapists who are otherwise such good people on this blog. You won’t see sweet-face lists of these young men’s accomplishments and wonderment about “how could such fine boys do this?” You’ll not read a word of sympathy and grief if they get sent to the prison where they belong, no matter how much they cry for themselves when they are sentenced.

They were without pity for Audrie. I don’t care if they bawl their eyes out for themselves. I hope they spend the rest of their lives in jail. I don’t think they should ever breathe another free breath again.

If you do something like this, then I put you in the monster column. The only way to get off that column is to manifest extreme remorse and humble grief for what you have done, coupled with a willingness to admit that you have in fact done it and that you are willing to do anything it takes to make up for it and to change. Even then, I want the proof of a changed life, and I mean a really changed life.

Nice people do not rape their friends. They do not — ever — treat other people like things. They do not take photos of their raping and then post them on the internet, along with sending emails and texts to taunt, degrade and destroy their “friend” socially. What these men did to this girl, the rape, was physical torture. What they did later was emotional torture. What this young girl faced was social death.

People who treat other people like this are monsters. They will remain monsters so long as they continue to excuse, defend and deny the utter depravity and sub-human cruelty of what they have allowed themselves to become.

From The Washington Post:

SARATOGA, Calif. — Fifteen-year-old Audrie Pott passed out drunk at a friend’s house, woke up and concluded she had been sexually abused.

In the days that followed, she was shocked to see an explicit photo of herself circulating among her classmates along with emails and text messages about the episode. And she was horrified to discover that her attackers were three of her friends, her family’s lawyer says.

Eight days after the party, she hanged herself.

“She pieced together with emails and texts who had done this to her. They were her friends. Her friends!” said family attorney Robert Allard. “That was the worst”

On Thursday, sheriff’s officials arrested three 16-year-old boys on suspicion of sexual battery against Audrie, who committed suicide in September.

The arrests and the details that came spilling out shocked many in this prosperous Silicon Valley suburb of 30,000. And together with two other episodes recently in the news — a suicide in Canada and a rape in Steubenville, Ohio — the case underscored the seeming callousness with which some young people use technology.

“The problem with digital technologies is they can expand the harm that people suffer greatly,” said Nancy Willard, an Oregon-based cyberbullying expert and creator of a prevention program for schools.

Santa Clara County sheriff’s officials would not give any details on the circumstances around Audrie’s suicide. But Allard said Audrie had been drinking at a sleepover at a friend’s house, passed out and “woke up to the worst nightmare imaginable.” She knew she had been assaulted, he said.

She soon found an abundance of material online about that night, including a picture. (Read the rest here.)

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