Pure
Fiel a Verdad
- Joined
- Dec 20, 2001
- Posts
- 15,135
I bitch slap Sher
In some situations, greatness of spirit seems fine, as in a land dispute between two clans. The one carrying the day in court, might allow the 'losers' to squat on the disputed piece, for their lifetimes.
To see the disanalogy, I'll tell you a tale.
A bit after marrying you, I find you prostrate and soon realize your usual literotica drug cocktail has interacted with your Leninism, and has caused this collapse. Your noble heart continues its beat, but you are without speech, speech comprehension, and voluntary muscle control.
I have your fine brain CT'd and it's a mess, and within a few more months turned to something like rotten mushroom soup, except the ole' stem, which keeps heart, lungs going, but not many other reflexes. In my view, you're dead for all intents and purposes. You've got that vacant look in your eyes that used to come from reading amicus. So it's a couple years and the drs. I've talked to say there's no fix, and I decide to plant you, and that total death to be brought about by no nourishment (since that's legal; on my own, I'd be happy to OD you on a triple dose of your literotica cocktail.)
Your crazy aunt Tilly launches a lawsuit to prevent your final death and burial, and sensing a 'cause' a bunch of Falwell's folks and others start raising money. When Tilly visits, she makes artful photos and videos of you which she gives to the Moral Majority and the Witless for Christ. Notable Republicans, esp. those under FBI investigation, who've never lifted a finger for the disabled, take a sudden interest in you, and declare you're a 'disabled person' they will defend to the last dollar you bring in.
I see the picture of you on TV and the funds being solicited, and to make a long story short, in ten years I prevail over Aunt Tilly's well funded legal machine, and again plan your quietus to make, by bare bodkin if necessary.
Some compassionate, if confused soul, says, "Why not just turn Sher--such as she is--over to Aunt Tilly. She and the 'right to lifers' will keep her going."
I decline the misuse go beyond the pictures, to see my truelove's actual disfigured body so used, and the pictures of vacant eyes directed to Christ, and your body being on stage at evangelical conventions with a large 'fundraising' basket. I don't want your minimal living state to be exhibited as a 'person' entitled to all the rights and privileges, compared to a fetus, and object to Aunt Tilly keeping you registered and taking you to voting booths and helping you touch the screen for the 'all Republican' ticket, and renewing your disabled parking permit for her use.
I believe you'd want to be dead, planted, and I do too. So I refuse the soul, her request. I believe you'll rest easier, six feet under, and the sad chapter of my life will be closed.
The some new compassionate savant proposes to 'bitch slap' me for pettiness of spirit?????
In some situations, greatness of spirit seems fine, as in a land dispute between two clans. The one carrying the day in court, might allow the 'losers' to squat on the disputed piece, for their lifetimes.
To see the disanalogy, I'll tell you a tale.
A bit after marrying you, I find you prostrate and soon realize your usual literotica drug cocktail has interacted with your Leninism, and has caused this collapse. Your noble heart continues its beat, but you are without speech, speech comprehension, and voluntary muscle control.
I have your fine brain CT'd and it's a mess, and within a few more months turned to something like rotten mushroom soup, except the ole' stem, which keeps heart, lungs going, but not many other reflexes. In my view, you're dead for all intents and purposes. You've got that vacant look in your eyes that used to come from reading amicus. So it's a couple years and the drs. I've talked to say there's no fix, and I decide to plant you, and that total death to be brought about by no nourishment (since that's legal; on my own, I'd be happy to OD you on a triple dose of your literotica cocktail.)
Your crazy aunt Tilly launches a lawsuit to prevent your final death and burial, and sensing a 'cause' a bunch of Falwell's folks and others start raising money. When Tilly visits, she makes artful photos and videos of you which she gives to the Moral Majority and the Witless for Christ. Notable Republicans, esp. those under FBI investigation, who've never lifted a finger for the disabled, take a sudden interest in you, and declare you're a 'disabled person' they will defend to the last dollar you bring in.
I see the picture of you on TV and the funds being solicited, and to make a long story short, in ten years I prevail over Aunt Tilly's well funded legal machine, and again plan your quietus to make, by bare bodkin if necessary.
Some compassionate, if confused soul, says, "Why not just turn Sher--such as she is--over to Aunt Tilly. She and the 'right to lifers' will keep her going."
I decline the misuse go beyond the pictures, to see my truelove's actual disfigured body so used, and the pictures of vacant eyes directed to Christ, and your body being on stage at evangelical conventions with a large 'fundraising' basket. I don't want your minimal living state to be exhibited as a 'person' entitled to all the rights and privileges, compared to a fetus, and object to Aunt Tilly keeping you registered and taking you to voting booths and helping you touch the screen for the 'all Republican' ticket, and renewing your disabled parking permit for her use.
I believe you'd want to be dead, planted, and I do too. So I refuse the soul, her request. I believe you'll rest easier, six feet under, and the sad chapter of my life will be closed.
The some new compassionate savant proposes to 'bitch slap' me for pettiness of spirit?????
