I'm tired. Exhausted would be more accurate of a definition. My fatigue reaches right down to my toes, which I can feel, partly in thanks to steroids. However, with the steroids come the irregular sleeping patterns, fancies of honey peanut butter sandwiches, tapioca pudding and asthma. I just completed a small walk, at 0200, with my fearless companion, who at any point could have abandoned me, possibly running to investigate the kitties with white tails, or worse even still, the rollie pollie prickly rodent who, with one quick slap of the tail, will deliver your dog a snout full of barbaric quills and a very steep vet bill. But, when it comes to steroids, you bless them and curse them all at the same time. I am awake to write.
We are in the middle of moving from a condo to a 31 foot trailer. This is no I love Lucky or Lucy jaunt either. This is the permanent move where everything is going, sans a few tiny personal items, and the rest will be auctioned off. The once thought of an "easy" button is out of batteries, or maybe I burned it. But, what started out as an organized sense of chaos, in reality, is anything from that word.
In the middle of this disaster has been my absence from my daily addiction of true news watching. Sure, last week, I watched with heavy heart at Mr. Hicks and his fellow witnesses testify as to the TRUTH behind Benghazi. And when news medias' replayed, ad nausea, former Sec. of State's angry fist pounding rant on the senate table, I couldn't struck by her choice of pea green clothing, and her emphatic, "what difference does it make" diatribe. Somewhere in the back of my head, I saw the play "Wicked" pop up in my mind. All that was missing from that part of the act was for her face to be painted pea green as well. Okay, I take it back, she was missing the broom and black pointy hat.
But, still, this is not the topic of the blog. Tonight, as I tossed and turned from the effects of steroids, I could not control my contempt for yet another stooge in the great mystery of news stories this week. Yes, Pennsylvania had an abortion doctor, the likes of ; actually even more diabolical the Tiller Tiller the Baby Killer, on trial for the murder of little defenseless babies and also an adult victim who died from an apparent drug overdose while in Dr. Gosnell's care.
The evidence showed that this MONSTER, for there is no other word to describe him, snipped the spinal chords of aborted babies who were born alive, after intended abotions. A 7 month gestated baby being brought into this world, and against all odds, surviving, only then to have a doctor *do no harm* snip out its little life. And to make it more reprehensible, he did it 4 times that we know of.
Did we learn nothing from the times of Hitler and his experiments at the hands another imp of Satan, Dr. Josef Mengelson? Is all we have left in this world are the numb, cold, emotionless empty shells where our hearts once belonged? Whether pro abortion or not, have we slipped to a society and actually think that snipping the spinal chord of an innocent child seems to be of the norm?
What's next? Will we have doctors who say and somehow logic their way into a defense that..."well, his head trauma was all to great, and we might have been able to fix it...but snipping his spinal chord seemed easier".
My question is also to the women who were having the abortions. If a child is born alive after an abortion, does that child immediately become part of a ward of the state, thereby becoming the legal responsibility of society? When do we owe a legal obligation to fight to save their little life? Aside from the horrific notion that a doctor is somehow performing 3rd trimester abortions, how, on the other hand do we have hospitals all over the country delivering these wee little babies, the using all means possible to keep them alive?
I just don't understand, or maybe really, I never will. Is ignorance Bliss?