I am Seized by a Divine Fire
I know that I haven't posted in ages, but a righteous wind has blown up my ass and I'm inspired, nay, compelled to write about it.
For the first time in my adult life, I am driven to prayer. And I am driven to pray for Terry Schiavo.
Fear not, my prayer is not quite the same as that of the millions of simpering knuckle-draggers cheering congress on as it (apparently having some idle time on its hands after surely having solved all problems with Iraq, Social Security, and the economy) votes to keep her as "alive" as a flesh-coated bowl of jello can possibly be.
Though it does start off the same.
I pray, with every fibre of my being, every waking moment and even muttering in my sleep: Please God, (please!!!!) let all logic, empirical evidence, and modern medical science be wrong just this once, and let Terry regrow a brain from the dysfunctional stem which is all she has left. Show your divine hand and grant us this impossible miracle. Please Lord, make Terry become several orders of magnitude better, that is, let her become merely hopelessly retarded with the IQ of a Chicken McNugget.
Bear with me, here is where the knuckle-draggers and I diverge. (But I am not afraid oh Lord, for I know my path is true. Though I am one, and they are many, the sheer rightness of my prayer must outshine their combined efforts. Please God, hear my prayer! I'll do anything. Become a priest. Or do the opposite and dedicate myself to helping people. Take a vow of poverty. Chastity. Mow your lawn. Anything.)
God, almighty Father in heaven above? Could you then possibly allow Terry to learn how to walk? NO! Scratch that. I ask too much. Allow her to learn how to move her leg. Just one leg, it doesn't matter which. And then allow her to accidentally push someone down a flight of stairs with that leg. And then let us all sit back and watch the show as the lying sacks of shit in congress who so sanctimoniously wanted to keep her "alive" scream for her blood.
Oh, and let this all happen in Texas, 'cause there ain't no better place in the big old world for executing the retarded.
For the first time in my adult life, I am driven to prayer. And I am driven to pray for Terry Schiavo.
Fear not, my prayer is not quite the same as that of the millions of simpering knuckle-draggers cheering congress on as it (apparently having some idle time on its hands after surely having solved all problems with Iraq, Social Security, and the economy) votes to keep her as "alive" as a flesh-coated bowl of jello can possibly be.
Though it does start off the same.
I pray, with every fibre of my being, every waking moment and even muttering in my sleep: Please God, (please!!!!) let all logic, empirical evidence, and modern medical science be wrong just this once, and let Terry regrow a brain from the dysfunctional stem which is all she has left. Show your divine hand and grant us this impossible miracle. Please Lord, make Terry become several orders of magnitude better, that is, let her become merely hopelessly retarded with the IQ of a Chicken McNugget.
Bear with me, here is where the knuckle-draggers and I diverge. (But I am not afraid oh Lord, for I know my path is true. Though I am one, and they are many, the sheer rightness of my prayer must outshine their combined efforts. Please God, hear my prayer! I'll do anything. Become a priest. Or do the opposite and dedicate myself to helping people. Take a vow of poverty. Chastity. Mow your lawn. Anything.)
God, almighty Father in heaven above? Could you then possibly allow Terry to learn how to walk? NO! Scratch that. I ask too much. Allow her to learn how to move her leg. Just one leg, it doesn't matter which. And then allow her to accidentally push someone down a flight of stairs with that leg. And then let us all sit back and watch the show as the lying sacks of shit in congress who so sanctimoniously wanted to keep her "alive" scream for her blood.
Oh, and let this all happen in Texas, 'cause there ain't no better place in the big old world for executing the retarded.
posted by Foog at 12:27 a.m.
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