November in Washington State. We live in a dying culture, the "Culture
Of Death". It reminds me of the scene in the book One Flew Over The
CooCoo's Nest. It's not in the movie. Chief Broom wakes up in the
middle of the night to see his floor being lowered like an elevator to
reveal a factory. A conveyor moves a hook to hover over the patient
next to him, and lifts the patient out of his bed to be hauled off to an
unknown disposal. This goes on all night removing patients that are
sick all around Chief Broom. Then the floor raises back up to normal.
He wakes up the next morning and all the beds are freshly made without
the patients. In the future, (or maybe even now) we will have to sign a statement to
be admitted to any hospital or nursing facility, that if we go to a
certain level of dependency (determined by the facility), the facility
will have the right to terminate life, kind of like an abortion.
And abortion. Ah, yes. There are millions of little extra embryos,
that if grown would become fetus's (it's just tissue), then children,
then teenagers, then adults, like Terry Shivo. Hopefully nothing
happens. If I get hurt and hit my head, I might have to go to the
hospital. I might be able to hear you but I just can't talk right now.
I hope I don't fall asleep. I don't remember signing a waiver. I guess
it doesn't matter.
Real life. It's weirder than science fiction.
Don't forget to vote. And vote right.
