Monday, February 04, 2008

France vs. America

Much as I am not a fan of the French, or their cooking, I do like their wine. And I am growing daily in respect for thir politicians. Their President gets his second divorce and four months later, he gets to marry a model. Our President, get's his chubby taken care of by a chubby intern and we suddenly have a "moral crisis" in the fucking White House. I call bullshit. You know what's a moral outrage? That we can let the French get away with trying to one up us. Now granted, it's not like Carla Bruni is the most talented singer, or the most beautiful model, but she damn well one ups Monica Lewinsky. Just for that the next President should get to spend a whole week in Vegas with Gisele Bundchen, no questions asked. Especially if it ends up being Hillary because whatever those questions are, I really don't want to know the answers.

I'm sleeping, not dead

I believe that people should have the right to kill themselves. If your life sucks so much that killing yourself is a viable option and you're not mentally defective, then who the fuck am I to say that killing yourself is wrong. Besides, one less person to compete against for the last piece of steak.

But I have a problem with euthanasia. The problem I have with assisted suicide is entirely practical. I've repeatedly said "I'll sleep when I'm dead." and considering how many times I've been wrong in life, I don't want to be taking a fucking nap and have somebody give me an overdose of morphine. It's not a fucking coma, I'm mjst catching up on all the hours I lost in my twenties when I was working 70 hours a week. If I wanted to be dead I'd do it the way I planned. Strap a five kilo's of C4 to my chest with an altimeter and blow myself up 50 meters above the base of the Canadian National Tower. 'Cause fuck Canada. Just because I've decided to snooze doesn't mean I should actually be dead. Just pull the catheter out and when I want to pee, I'll get up on my fucking own to go to the bathroom.