Showing posts with label Ruth Ginsberg. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ruth Ginsberg. Show all posts

Friday, March 13, 2009

Fools Rush In


An angry child says, “I wish you were dead.” Even to a beloved parent, in cuttingly measured tones, “I/ wish/ you/ were… dead! That’s a child speaking.


Every mother and father knows that two minutes later they get their loving, caring child back. Every child knows that in less time than that he or she is forgiven.


In the world of adults, it’s different. Or at least it’s supposed to be. The Sixth Commandment should have a VI-a. to it: Thou shalt not kill off others. People can get into serious trouble by wishing someone dead.


So, what is it with the Republicans?


Kentucky Senator Jim Bunning chose an annual Lincoln Day Dinner (of all occasions) to pronounce Supreme Court Justice Ruth Ginsberg “half-dead.” As reported by Joseph Gerth in Louisville’s Courier-Journal:

“Ruth Bader Ginsburg … has cancer. Bad cancer. The kind that you don't get better from. Even though she was operated on, usually, nine months is the longest that anybody would live after [being diagnosed] with pancreatic cancer," Bunning said.

GOP-Leader-By-Default Rush Limbaugh polluted radio airwaves again by ranting about the passage of health care reform legislation:

"Before it's all over, it'll be called the Ted Kennedy memorial health care bill.”

Rush-To-Judgment’s dittoheads justly point out that he didn’t specifically mention death. Anyone with half an education should point out to them that memorials are not held for the living. Except, perhaps, for the living dead, under the guise of caucuses (dangerously close to carcasses), conventions and the Conservative Political Action Conference (dangerously close to falling off the right side of the Earth). Which brings us to the Republicans’ death wishes for themselves, and for the once-grand old party.


Is it premature to pronounce the GOP DOA? Probably. Still, there’s a quasi Jim Jones’ Jamestown quality to their rapture.


When Paul Krassner, the creator of the irreverent 60s and early 70s magazine, “The Realist,” was asked on British radio if, based on a satirical piece he had written, he condoned necrophilia, he answered, “Only between consenting adults.”