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From The Archives: Nov 1, 2010, 5:23:49 PM

 Why I Support The Death Penalty

Davy

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Nov 1, 2010, 5:23:49 PM
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The following quotes are from Wil Wheaton's "The real war on Christmas"
essay on Salon.com on Dec 22, 2005, quoting respectively Wil's father
and Wil:

"They get satellite television, and weights, and free meals, and
jobs, and a library ..."

"And raped, and beaten by guards, and sold as slaves by prison
gangs," I said."

Think about that: any self-respecting person would think that's worse
than death.

This, besides that they're stupid enough to commit what are usually
stupid crimes and stupid enough to get caught, is why I have no respect
for the average convict: because they don't have whatever it takes to
put themselves out of their misery (and ours). No, they'd rather suffer
behind bars, with the only recompense being making other people behind
bars suffer too. So why is Society spending so much money, time and
effort on these people? Put them down, I say.

Note that I'm aware that innocent people get convicted, that the
penalties are exaggerated (prison over a couple of joints is unjust),
and that a lot of them have their charges "upgraded" by political DAs
aiming for higher office (having two joints in a baggie does not mean
you plan on selling either of them); the point is that even somebody
who's been framed should know better than to put up with prison time. I
don't have much respect for non-criminals who choose to suffer like
that either. If they're guilty it's punishment, if not it's euthanasia,
and in either case it's better for all concerned.

Wise up: in the present-day U.S.A., as everywhere else on the planet,
life is cheap. There would be much less war if it wasn't, much less
cancer and much less stupidity; nobody's life is worth a plug nickel,
not even mine. Anybody who thinks otherwise is an idiot duped by
bullshit propaganda.

So why do we have prisons? So that people "on the outside" can enjoy
sadistic fantasies about the horrors that its outcasts undergo and so
that really marginal types can get jobs inside them -- especially as
guards who can give free reign to their own criminal sadism. Most
people don't think cons can really be rehabilitated, that prisons are
for punishment, but they don't think further to learn why they're so
willing to pay so much for these fine penal establishments. Think about
this too: you pay for food because it tastes good, you pay for booze
because it makes you feel good, you pay for gas to run your cars... So
why do you let so much of your tax money go to the penal system? Why
else but to make these stupid cons suffer. (You sadistic bastards.)

Death, whether as penalty or reward, is preferable to prison. So I
suggest that the death penalty should not only be kept, it should be
expanded to cover a whole host of non-fatal felonies as well: any crime
that merits more than say 2 years in the slammer should result in a
sure, quick and painless death.

Okay, perhaps there should be an alternative to prison or death: I
propose penal battalions in our United States Armed Forces. Instead of
taking our their violent stupidity on normal citizens or fellow cons,
if insist on being too soft-headed and/or too sadistic to go for simple
execution, let the criminal types have their jollies at the expense of
non-Americans our Government has designated The Enemy. The government
can always find some foreigners to "liberate."

In any case, face it: it's so easy to get wise to you that even I can
do it. You might give facing up to yourselves a try too.


Ya got all that?


***HUGS***

Davy


From The Archives: Sep 5, 2011, 12:13:54 PM

 

David O'Lantern

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Sep 5, 2011, 12:13:54 PM
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Lately I've been preoccupied with the realization that I've never had a
single close friend, that it may well be that nobody has ever felt any
deep and abiding affection for me. And that this might well be my fault.

Or perhaps "fault" is not quite the word for it; perhaps I should say
that this fact of friendlessness is due to some fact or facts about me,
that perhaps I'm simply not the kind of person who has friends. That if
it's a skill I'm unable to learn it, if it's a talent I don't possess
it.

It could even be that it's the rest of the people I've been surrounded
by for 40-odd years who are responsible, that I'm alone on a planet of
people who are unable or unwilling to appreciate my "special" qualities.
(This won't be a very popular idea.)

Regardless of responsibility, the facts are that I am alone now and that
I have always been alone. The available evidence indicates also that
this condition is now permanent. If there ever was a time when having at
least one close friend was possible that opportunity will not recur;
however interested I might become in a person it will again come to
nothing. No one is likely to want to be my friend, or at least likely
enough to tolerate or disregard whatever deficiency or disability causes
this condition. The distance is unbridgeable: I am cut off.

This idea is not new, merely the acceptance of it. Years ago and for
many years I railed against this fact, refusing to recognize it as
irrefutable and seeking to escape it. As one might expect if we are
truly a social species naturally inclined to be sociable together.
Assuming of course that I truly am the same species as those who are not
my friends: subjectively it has always seemed that that is not the case,
that I am a species sui generis. Perhaps I'm a mutant, a "sport," a "bad
seed." Or perhaps my space ship crashed and left me stranded here, or
maybe I've blundered over from an alternate universe that I'm unable to
get home to.

Certainly it's always felt that way, ever since I can remember: any hope
I've ever had of not being all alone here had more to do with finding
another such mutant or mutants with whom I might bond reciprocally and
mutually, not that I would ever prove to be a "regular, normal" person.
It did not take me long to learn that one should not strive to surmount
the realm of natural fact, that it's simply not possible for a pig to
fly. (However worthy of flight the pig might be.)

What's changed lately, besides that this knowledge has finally sunk in,
is the realization that however this isolation has felt at times it has
always been possible: however hard to bear it was I have borne it
nevertheless. Regardless of how others might perceive me I have my
persistence to be proud of. I gather that this quality or achievement is
not at all common, that most of those who might read this cannot or will
not say that: you would have been unable or unwilling to endure such a
condition for over 40 years, you would have crumpled and crumbled long
before. You would be reduced to self-abnegation or self-destruction, or
worse, gibbering idiocy.

But I remain. I, I, I am a rara avis. Hear me type: I think it's pretty.