Lethal Injection Insults My Intelligence

In recent years, the United States has witnessed numerous challenges to capital punishment on the basis of the method (lethal injection) being cruel and unusual punishment.  I have no interest in arguing over the maximum appropriate threshold of pain during an execution; the courts are already providing guidance on that matter.

Syringe

“Don’t worry. The needle is painless.” (Photo credit: Armin Kübelbeck)

In fact, I tend to be suspicious of the death penalty because people are idiots and juries are made out of people.  Courtroom arguments have to be made at the average idiot’s comprehension level and that doesn’t exactly bode well for getting a good result.  I’ve even faced questioning for jury duty and one lawyer was clearly trying to screen education out of the jury pool.

But that’s beside the point.  As long as we have a death penalty, it ought to be performed within the bounds of common human decency.  With that in mind, I would like to propose several alternatives to lethal injection that would give convicts more of a warm and fuzzy feeling on their way out of this world:

1- Bring the convict to a garage.  Start up a car and close the garage door.  People die like this at home all the time without realizing how much carbon monoxide is building up, at least until they find themselves looking up from a very comfortable coffin.

2- The guillotine was quick, effective, and cheap.  I cannot overemphasize “cheap” because so many states still face budgetary problems.

3- We all know that the appeals process can take decades.  We also know that bacon flavored desserts have become immensely popular.  Because of this, I suggest placing convicts on a strict diet of bacon grease ice cream from the moment they reach death row.  If the conviction is overturned, they can be given free medical care; if not, their heart attack should arrive by the time their legal journey ends.

4- Marijuana, LSD, crystal meth, booze.  All at once.  If you’re clueless enough to kill people, you’re probably clueless enough to think that this execution method sounds like a party.

5- Toss convicts from the Empire State Building and turn the event into a carnival.  People could place wagers on how far the blood will splatter and in which direction.  Guards could even paint a bull’s eye on the ground and play a game in which the convict tries to land on it.

As you can see, there’s no good reason to continue with the ever-so-controversial drug cocktails being delivered by way of a nasty little syringe.  Until such time as we eliminate irrevocable punishments that could be wrong, we ought to at least have a little fun with them.  “Fun,” by definition, cannot be cruel and unusual punishment.

And please pass me a bacon doughnut.

Field Trips Insult My Intelligence

I wrote a parody of Maya Angelou’s poem “Still I Rise” as one of my earliest posts.  I liked the result but few people saw it because the blog was so new.  I’ve been meaning to write a sequel ever since.

That said, it’s time to revisit one of the cruelest topics I’ve ever dealt with: children and animals… so here’s another morbid poem.  (Admittedly, the original was better.)

You can take kids to the forest,
They will see a lot of flies.
You can tell them not to feed the bears,
But then some poor kid dies.

Can’t they listen to instructions?
Don’t they want to stay alive?
‘Cause they play like there’s no danger there
That they just cannot survive.

Just like George and like cats
Who are curious young guys,
Though his hope’s springing high,
Still, he dies.

Photo credit: VanBuren

Photo credit: VanBuren

Should we try for something safer?
Is the subway that bad too?
(Children falling in like teardrops
Ain’t what they’re supposed to do.)

We can try hard to restrain them,
We can offer them a prize,
‘Cause the third rail’s got some energy,
And it makes sure some kid dies.

Photo Credit: PDPhotos

Photo Credit: PDPhotos

We may choose to take the bus now
We may hope that no one fries
We may warn “That fence should not be climbed”
But always someone dies.

Does that image so upset you
That we’ll have to try the beach?
But there’s sharks there underwater,
When kids drown you’ll hear a screech.

Down to the depths of ocean’s floor,
He dies.
In through the teeth, they’re gnashing his brain,
He dies.
He’s a shark’s breakfast, bloody with pride,
Floating and bloating he flows with the tide.

Leaving behind cries of terror and fear,
He dies.
Into a stomach that’s wondrously clear,
He dies.
Bringing the flesh that his ancestors gave
He is the dream and the hope the sharks crave.
He dies.
He dies.
He dies.

Elvis Insults My Intelligence

Good afternoon.  I’m thrilled to be here today.

My name is Elvis Presley and I’m originally from Tupelo, MS.  I know, I know, you think I’m dead.

As you can see, I’m not dead.  I currently live on a remote tropical island in the South Pacific where legions of servants wait on me hand and foot.

It’s good to be the King.

You need to see things from my perspective.  I was getting old and fat, so my agent decided that I needed to disappear.  The fans will forgive you for becoming a drug addict, for getting arrested multiple times, for doing almost anything under the sun except become old and fat.  My waistline bulged and my face had begun to wrinkle.  If I could have swiveled my hips like in the old days, my sagging testicles would have swung and whapped some poor gal in the audience.

Music fans clamor for a different wrecking ball.  Flying genitals are considered acceptable at 19, creepy at 40, and gross at 79.  Ageism at its finest…

But back to my story.  To keep the income flowing in, I retired to this island.  The whole hoopla around “Is Elvis dead?” kept my name in circulation far longer than it deserved to be.  Armies of performers still don my clothes and hairdo while kids who think Metallica is ancient line up to get married by me.  And every time someone imitates me, I get a royalty check.

And don’t forget the memorabilia and tickets to Graceland and everything else you can spend money on.

I’m rolling in the dough because death’s aura conquers all.

https://i2.wp.com/upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/0/00/Memphis_national_cemetery.jpg

This is the Memphis National Cemetery.  I ain’t here.  (Photo credit: Thomas R. Machnitzki)

Since I’m so generous, I shared my wisdom with my ex-son-in-law, Michael.  No one was buying his music and radio stations refused to play anything by him.  No one wanted to do anything that would funnel money into the hands of a child molester.  But as soon as he “died,”  people could only remember the controversy surrounding his death.  His music reemerged that week and it sells very well on iTunes.

That’s right, kiddies.  Drugs are okay.  They can get you forgiven for greater crimes.

Michael joined me here and we plan to grow older and die on this island.  We can do it because you’re all so stupid.

Thank you.  Thank you very much.

Mortuaries Insult My Intelligence

Slide1I’m standing here at Deddinboxtin & Co. Funeral Services Inc. headquarters and have the good fortune to chat with this happy looking man, Mr. Deddinboxtin himself.  Face powdered white like an old-time theater ghost and black hair slicked back like a guy who has a bunch of perfumed girls lined up for the evening, he has kindly agreed to show me around the place.

His voice, it rumbles like a train crushing a poor little squirrel, thunderous in spite of the havoc it creates under its nose.  “We got us here some great opportunities mister.  What sorta receptacle can I pleasure ya with today?”

“Mr. Deddinboxtin, I’d like…”

“A casket I suppose.  We have lovely wood grain veneer coffins with shiny red satin lining and a pillow soft as snow for your loved one to feel cozy all eternity or however long she stays dead.  You can sell us the pillow back after the viewing if yer cheap that way, we don’t mind but yer loved one’ll haunt ya ’til the cows start singin’ Dixie.  Casket’s rated to last forever or ’til the worms get in and let those like totally gonzo embalmin’ fluids seep out and kill the water supply.  Best you buy the whole damn package… pillow, casket, sealant, and our extra special memorial keepsake ornament you can keep on yer Christmas tree every year to remember this special time in yer life.”

“A Christmas ornament?  I don’t think…”

“It’s green and red and has a picture of yer beloved’s face on the front surrounded by holly and we can get a mistletoe fer it if ya wanna keep the romance goin’ if ya know what I mean.  It’s silver veneer over a plaster interior and it’ll stay with ya the rest of yer life unless it falls apart like those cheap plastic ornaments we sold last year.”

“I’m curious.  What made you decide to become a mortician?”

“Easy schmeezy.  I get to help peeps through the toughest part of their lives and they always find everlastin’ joy.  Take a look at this here memorial flower arrangement.  It’s only $1,999.99 and comes with all the roses yer beloved could ever dream of, unless ya want the deluxe bouquet with these rockin’ neon lights.  It’s a steal at only five hundred more.  She’ll know how much ya love her when she looks down from Heaven I hope and sees the lovin’ embrace yer givin’ her in the grave.  Them ladies gotta have them some flowers.  Ya want one arrangement or two?”

“What, pray tell…”

“Prayers, oh yeah, I about forgot the minister.  We keep a minister on staff and he’s the greatest thing you’ll ever see.  Dresses all in black to mark the occasion and he’s even got his own set of holy books.  Wrote ’em himself so we can say they’re good for any religion or atheists.  Them there atheists need a minister too and I’m here to sell him to ’em.  Oh, and you.  Should I mark ya down for the fifteen or thirty minute sermon?”

“But Mr. Deddinboxtin, no one died.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.”

Bad Photo Captions Insult My Intelligence

Dead puppy on a stick

Dead puppy on a stick (Photo credit: thumeco)

dead puppy (n.): Along with religion and politics, one of the three most controversial topics you can write about.  Especially if you do a food blog.

I apologize to any readers who may be sensitive to such humor. I was writing another post and Zemanta gave me this photo with the caption “dead puppy on a stick.”   Although “dead puppy on a stick” sounds like something that might be served at a state fair, the caption seemed sort of off.  Especially because the puppy had turned green. 

I doubt that’s tasty.

And maybe this post will finally get me some interesting Google search results to write about.

Classroom Pets Insult My Intelligence

English: An image of a Common goldfish

 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

You may put a fish in water
with a filter twice its size.
You may give it food two times a day
But still, of course, it dies.

Français : Hamster en cage (Femelle)

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Does the hamster wheel upset you?
Does the cage foul up the room?
‘Cause he sprays like gushing oil wells
And creates some nasty fumes.

Just like Grandma’s older cats
That have used up their nine lives
Though the hamster climbs high
Still, it dies.

Crying child

(Photo credit: Creative Donkey)

Do you like to see kids mourning?
With bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by their soulful cries.

My son's pet snake

(Photo credit: Pahz)

Should the teacher now be braver?
Should she now go get a snake?
‘Cause reptiles’ lives are like gold mines
That can bend but never break.

She can shoot it up with vaccines
She can feed it lots of mice
It can shed its skin with feistiness
But still, of course, it dies.

Photo of a Florida Box Turtle (Terrapene carol...

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Will this turtle pacify them
With its shell and beady eyes?
Will the children finally smile
At this old reptilian prize?

Out from the weight of its own shell
It dies.
Up from a cage that’s rooted in pain
It dies.
Children are crying, screaming, and mad
Welling and swelling they say they’ve been had
They bellow their grievance of anger and fear:
“It dies!”
They don’t stop, for it is perfectly clear
It dies
Regretting the gifts that their kids’ teacher gave
Dad dreams of a time when some pets could be saved.
It dies.
It dies.
It dies.