If not now, when?

Until recently, I argued that Final Days were not a propitious time to make discretionary purchases; now I ask myself: "What better time?"

I seek not your agreement or approval, just your acceptance.

Burn, baby, burn!

I wonder how many of those asserting a free-speech right to burn the Quran are as vociferous in defending the right of dissenters to burn the American flag.

The Messenger Is Not The Message

The crazed gunman's actions were irrational and reprehensible; still, I find his premise--the parasitic infestation of Earth by Man--difficult to refute.

Can you think of a single positive contribution from our species to the welfare of the planet? (Half-hearted attempts to remedy the ravages that we, ourselves, have wrought don't count.)

Most creatures great and small coexist in symbiotic give-and-take relationships, to their mutual benefits; only from the beast at the very apex of the food chain is there all-take-no-give.

Suicide: I've been thinking...

Having witnessed my parents' protracted and bitter deaths of attrition--ignoble ends to noble lives--I conclude that life devoid of pleasure, purpose, or prospects is a life not worth living.

Even as I am busily killing time, Time is busy killing me.

I wonder how much longer I will be able to live independently, and I assert my choice not to live dependently.

An indistinct boundary often distinguishes extending life from prolonging death; best not to stray too close to the line.

If my baseline health were robust, I might be more interested in life extension; with my baseline compromised, I am less enthused.

Even as I begin to consider planning a Final Exit, I continue to take my daily multivitamin and to limit my sodium intake!

How dare the state usurp my most fundamental right--my Right to Self-determination--by interfering with the timing and mode of my own departure!

Even in hospitable jurisdictions, euthanasia is usually limited to severely-suffering terminally ill patients. Such strictures reflect archaic moral (religious) values, a pervasive societal fear of death, and a narcissistic over-valuation of human life (especially one's own). For a competent adult, the only criterion that should matter is: When enough is enough. And in that decision, for me, I am sole arbiter.

Though my impairment is substantial and distressing, I cannot vouch with any certainty that my underlying condition is "terminal" (I know only that following a recent exacerbation, there seems not much left to lose). More important in my calculus than the aggressivity of my disease are the intensity of my will to live and the extent of my endurance.

I hear every day of young people dying--young people with potential forever lost. I have no Bucket List (that matters), and scant cause for complaint.

Am I depressed? Sure, a bit. (Wouldn't you be?) But my convictions re: death and dying are well-reasoned and long-held, and I argue that my current emotions and attitudes are rational and appropriate to my circumstance.

Several dear old friends are devoutly religious--if they insist on trying to elicit a "death-bed conversion," I will have to exorcise them!

Self-deliverence is not an act but a process, the first step in which is to acknowledge and accept that you are (one way or another) going to die. All the rest is choreography.