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Fuck the Man, Man.
2003-04-02 - 12:52 a.m.


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In Bridgeport, Conneticut, they're arresting an eighty nine wheelchair bound man for smothering his chronically ill wife to death in a mercy killing. They will arraign him, then release him when he promises to show for trial, thank heaven for small mercies.  Wouldn't want the state to pick up the bill for his health care, would they? 

He will be tried for murder.

I'm so pissed off about this, I'm finding it hard to express myself.

I mean, I'm trying to see the local prosecutor's point of veiw, driven by beauracracy and perhaps a local medical examiner who will list it as a homicide on the death certificate, necessitating an investigation, and the prosecutor doesn't have the balls to do the moral thing.

Well, I tried...

Leave that poor man the fuck alone.  That poor bastard is clinging on, had to kill his wife because she was begging for release from her pain, is wheel chair bound, fucking suffering himself, and what are you gonna' do, you heartless fucking bastard, put him in jail? 

There is no worse place in this life to be, other than to beg for death, pray for death, and be so debilitated that one cannot die...that others around them will not let them die.

There are worse fates than death.  Close to that has to be smothering the love of your life.

Some things are personal in the extreme, and the final power doesn't belong to The Man.

Fuck the Man.


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