The cull
Today is a special day up here in Canada, worth remembering for a long time: the last day in our public life before our Supreme Court ruled on what the psycho faction likes to call “euthanasia.” The pagan mind thinks suicide is an option, but after tomorrow, every life in the monopoly public healthcare system is worth whatever the death committees decide. With the passage of time, their budgetary constraints will weigh ever more heavily upon them.
There has been no debate, and could be no debate, as I muttered recently about abortion: all decent humans being on one side. The Canadian media, on the other, buried the story as hardly worth their time. In the extremely rare circumstances in which ethical arguments against killing people were allowed to creep onto an op-ed page, the comboxes quickly filled with vile locutions from that psycho faction. I use the word advisedly: one must alas read such comments to appreciate what I mean.
Unless, of course, our Supreme Court should elect to surprise us. But when one looks down the row of men and women who warm that bench, hope is not indicated: Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch’entrate. Their adherence to the Culture of Death has been consistent; their respect for the ancient usages of law, whimsical at best. Madame Justice has been on record for years, explaining the nature of the decisions they render, as a College of Vestals sweeping before the Sacred Flame.
As any death sentence, their decision should be taken quietly. There is no point in crying out. The ideologues of “progress” are ruthless, and the old, the frail, the disabled, the depressed, the mentally afflicted, the terminally ill, must never look to them for “mercy.” They have their own definition of this term, and among the stipendiaries of Eugenics and Auschwitz, the short way is best.
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Next morning update: The Supreme Court has ruled as predicted, and unanimously. There was a cosmetic limitation to hard cases, and special requests; but as we know, and they know, from the legalization of abortion, this will be ignored. Later, when the rhetorical cover has served its purpose, it will be formally rescinded.
One thinks of the illustrious G. Gordon Liddy. Asked once by a judge if he was trying to show contempt for the court, he replied: “No, your honour, I was trying to conceal it.”