The Finch Formerly Known As Gold

26 February 2005

As the countdown begins

I haven't been running at 100 percent lately, the result of various minor illnesses combined with the inability to get the leg muscles synchronized with the newer, trimmer knee, and, says Andrea Harris, that makes me more expendable:

It's starting already: the killers are circling this blameless woman, whose only crime is, apparently, being unable to feed herself. We've already decided unborn babies are nothing but viruses, and old people are nothing but parasites, so why not treat a middle-aged woman with brain damage like a bra with a broken underwire? Though her killer-wannabes mouth platitudes about wishing to end her "suffering" the real reason they want her gone is because she reminds them of their own ultimate helplessness.

Woody Allen: "I'm not afraid of dying. I just don't want to be there when it happens."

When I was younger, I saw that some day it would be my duty to get the hell out of the way and make room for the generations to come. Nowhere, though, does it say that I have to go quietly, or that I should time my departure for the convenience of others.

Posted at 10:07 AM to Almost Yogurt


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