Posts Tagged ‘ euthanasia ’

Pick a club

My brother-in-law is a hog. A Harley Hog, that is. He’s got the bike. He’s got the look. And, living in DC, he participates in Rolling Thunder every year (would that I could). Point is, he wanted to join this particular club and he was willing to pay the price of admission, as well as the membership dues. Things like a motorcycle made by one, specific company. He did not go knocking on the door of the local chapter sitting astride, say, a Honda.

Any (and all) clubs, groups, associations have requirements for membership – that’s what makes them a club. They are founded and maintained on certain, (usually) well defined interests. Political parties in the United States used to be like this. When all members adhere to and support the group’s basic tenets, rules, philosophy, the group is cohesive and is strengthened. But, clubs can often lose their focus, especially when they try to find new members. Kinda like the Democrats enacting new laws to force everybody else to be more liberal. Unfortunately, with politics (in any country), you are subject to the whims of the ruling party, whether you’re a member of that party or not. Not so I imagine, with the Hogs: if you don’t ride (or, at least own?) a Harley, you’re not welcome. However, no one will force me on to any particular motorcycle, or on to any motorcycle at all, for that matter.

So, it just defies my understanding why anyone would want to be a member of any particular church if they weren’t willing to follow its rules (doctrine, dogma, teachings). If I want to believe objects have spirits, fine; but Christians don’t worship rivers or mountains, any more than you would join a rose society because of your prize petunias. Why an animist would even consider joining a Christian church is beyond me. To my knowledge, Christian churches don’t prevent anyone from communing with nature. Christians, by definition, worship Christ, and in 2000 years, haven’t seen the need to consult tea leaves or chicken bones. If you want to stick pins into a doll, ok; but Christians don’t. You do your thing, I’ll do mine, ok? So, why is it asking too much that you don’t make it the law of the land that I have to buy pins and dolls for you? This isn’t Germany.

I want to have hot dogs on the Fourth of July, not quiche on Bastille Day. I want to pledge allegiance to the red, white and blue of the United States, not the white, blue and red of Russia. I want to observe Christmas by attending midnight Mass celebrated by a celibate, male priest. I believe human life begins at conception and procured abortion is murder. Civil law has redefined marriage and inconvenient life – but Divine Law hasn’t (unless I missed the memo that GOD takes His marching orders from Capitol Hill). You want to stand in front of the Pearly Gates and justify yourself based on the decisions made by a committee of your peers (read: politicians), go right ahead. Frankly, I don’t want my Church to conform to your society. I like the fact that Christ was the ultimate revolutionary.

I will continue to render unto Caesar, but not because I feel it is my responsibility to pay for your lack of responsibility. I will continue to pay my taxes and buy health care for my family – and yours. It is mere coincidence that the guy in the White House agrees with the guy in the Bible on that one.

Put another way: I like being Roman Catholic. Which, despite its name, doesn’t mean it is a chameleon that finds new ways to constantly reinvent itself. The more it ignores the capricious and arbitrary fashions of the hour, the better. When I need shifting sands, I’ll go to the internet; when I need something built on rock, I’ll go to Mass. There are many who say the Church doesn’t fit the times. Not able to ordain women (let’s see: Jesus was male, His first thirteen apostles were male; what am I missing here?). Not embracing homosexual behavior (doesn’t exactly embrace serial killer behavior, either). Finding that human life is not a matter of convenience, or the calendar. Ok, I’ll hold the door open for you. I am quite sure you’ll find someone to embrace your inability to have a backbone, to have values, to believe that some things – like Truth – don’t change.

Yeah, it has warts; what collection of human beings doesn’t? Jesus was divine, he did the best He could with the material He had available. Fishermen and tax collectors. The fisherman, the one who I would have thought dependable, denied Jesus not once, but three times. At the Cross, Peter was nowhere to be found. And there was that part where Jesus was telling the religious police that tax collectors and prostitutes would get into Paradise before them; doesn’t say much about tax collectors, does it? Not sure who got slammed there. Can anyone forget the Renaissance Popes? NOBODY should. I, for one, would like to rip those years out of every history book. St Peter’s Basilica notwithstanding.

If you don’t like my club, you are free to leave. Roses have thorns; but at the end of the day, they are roses. No doubt Harleys have issues, but what machine doesn’t? If you prefer a rice rocket, have at it. But, I don’t ask you to sing kum-bay-yah, why must you demand that of me? (yeah, I find the fact that I did, at one time, really far out).

I’m glad I was sitting down when I read this

A co-worker sent an email to all of us hapless souls last week; here are a few excerpts:

“sitting more than six hours in a day can increase your risk of dying by 54 percent”
“Women who sat for more than six hours a day were 40 percent more likely to die. And men increased their risk by 20 percent.”

Which is worse: that someone wrote this trash, or that an otherwise halfway intelligent person bought into it (and felt compelled to share it)? Basically, the gist of the article is that if you never sit down, you’re never going to die. Fabulous thot, eh? But, the end of all this joy is one of the greatest gifts I can think of. Ok, so name one person you know who is, say 90 years old, or even 80 years old, that is having the time of his/her life. Find a really old fart who is in the pink of health (you might have to go down to the 40-somethings for this one). I had two cousins who probably died of agoraphobia, neither all that old, as far as candles on the cake is concerned. But, as sure as Death, afraid of Life.

I couldn’t have said it better. The point is, this fun ride we’re on has a price. Oh? and you think it doesn’t? How do you connect the dots? Absolutely everything you do in This Life has a price, but the sum total of the days of your life don’t? You spend your days, five out of seven, I’ll wager, trading the minutes and hours of your life for fun tokens that you then exchange for, well, I guess it’s called “fun”. Either “fun”, or “stuff”; in any event the same fluff. And that “stuff” is mostly the Madison Avenue definition; for if it had a meaningful definition, you wouldn’t be so eager to chase after the next fashionable bit of “fun”. But, no one ever says the car, the house, the dream vacation were “free”. Nobody with two cents to rub together.

I thought it was all about “immediate gratification” – that was last week. Now, I think it is all about the lack of accountability. Getting something for nothing. Enjoying the ride w/o buying a ticket. Somehow being the one bloke who’s figured out how to cheat the system – w/o getting caught, of course.

It all adds up to the same: a distraction. This Life is not the sum total of all the little activities that most people fill it with. Or, let’s hope not. How many episodes of “Wheel of Fortune” make a life? (thank you, Charlie Babbitt) Most definitely not the real thing. The distraction is buying into the idea that death can be avoided. Hell, you think taxes are inevitable? You ain’t seen nothin’ yet! Tell ya what, let’s thaw out James Hiram Bedford and listen to his first words. Nope: no one cheats Death.

Why persist then? Why continue running the race? Well, even if you’re in last place rounding the final turn, the fat lady hasn’t sung yet (only in America? Not!). No one asked you to lace up your spikes, no one forced you into the starting blocks, but there you are: in the race of (for?) your life. Gotta finish it. Euthanasia is just another name for loser. Quitters got to what circle of Dante’s Inferno?

Yeah, This Life is an every day sort of thing. Every day. Every day you put your gloves on and enter the ring. Or, you sit in the first row and get sweat and other body fluids showered down on you. Or, maybe you’re up in the nose-bleed section? Or, still outside trying to decide whether to buy tickets? News Flash: Life ain’t about the tailgate party. Participate or spectate – your choice.

But, you better choose, and choose soon: no telling how much time you’re going to need. No way to know if just this last straightaway is going to be long enough. Wanna bet you really do need more than one more round or inning?

‘Course, you can take the position that there is no final reckoning. This Life is all there is. Some live charmed lives and some don’t live a life at all. Some get all the breaks, and all the wrong people die young or live long. So, what difference does it make? There is no one to pay, anyway. I thank God for people like you: you are something else I don’t want any part of.