“It’s a horrible story,” writes Daily Kos of Terri Shiavo’s impending death by starvation, “but there’s a silver lining in it all.”
That silver lining? Republicans would be embarrassed by a memo that identified the Shiavo case as a wonderful tool to use against Democrats. And they should be embarrassed … but not nearly so much as Daily Kos. Or this exultant fellow, who seems to think the starvation of brain-damaged Schiavo is revenge against the occupant of the White House. You might have stolen two elections, pResident Hitlerburton W. Chimpowitz, but a woman in Florida has had her feeding tube removed! WE WIN!
Troubling, too, is Tim Dunlop’s view that murderers executed in Texas under then-Governor Bush were less deserving of termination:
Where was the culture of life as he signed each execution warrant? It seems to me that there is a reasonable case that every one of those subjects of Governor Bush’s death warrants had a better claim to the “culture of life” (that is, life)—on a purely physical human level—than a poor woman whose cerebral cortex has liquified.
“Shame on all those seeking political advantage,” concludes Tim, having apparently just done so. The rest of his post, however, contains some worthwhile thoughts. Speaking of which, check Professor Bunyip:
Here’s our chance, brothers and sisters and comrades! Here’s our chance to scream about Tom DeLay’s scandals and rant about his hypocrisy. And best of all, we can do it while we pretend to care, to really care. At that’s why we want her dead. Because we care so very bloody much …
It’s all very confusing—and entirely beside the point, because the issue couldn’t be more simple: Is the feeding Schiavo has received until now a medical treatment? Her heart beats and would continue so long as she is nourished, which makes her exactly the same in that most basic detail as every other one of us. Yes, we’ll almost certainly never know where Terri Schiavo stands on Iraq’s liberation, whether she would side with her executioners or rescuers, or even if she is aware of the fly in the corner of her room. But her capacity to harbour still a flicker of the life force, even a semblance of a flicker, to smile and grimace and inhabit the form of humanity, well that defines precisely what she is and remains: Human, human still—and made more so by the love of the thwarted and now powerless parents, whose anguish the compassionards dismiss with a caring shrug.
Let the poor woman be fed. Let her not become a mere pawn in our incessant and obsessive attempts to control her life for our and not her benefit.