Bad taste (almost literally)

I don't know about you, but the never-ending saga of the unfortunate Terri Schiavo is pushing all the wrong buttons for me.

First of all, the continual back and forth on whether or not the woman should be allowed to die versus continue on in a vegetative state is utterly maddening. Constant news reports, updates, interviews, last-minute Congressional hearings, etc. are turning this tragic story into a lurid meldorama, and the only recourse is to completely shut oneself off. It's not like you can set the remote to sense these particular news stories and bypass them; they are everywhere.

Worse is the abject cynicism this situation is engendering. Once the Prez gets involved, all bets are off in terms of the right thing happening, so that's a moral dead end for most of us. Subsequently, I find that the only defense mechanism left to shield me from this insanity is to explore the darkest forms of black humor.

To wit: when I was told to go take lunch at my temp job today, my immediate thought was something like "I am a bit famished - better reinsert my feeding tube, post-haste." Thankfully this was not uttered out loud. But it was a close call.

When exactly did it become "right" to get up into everyone's business in this country - including those in comas?

This debacle has recently been described thusly: "Ignorant and superstitious and embarrassing."