Butterfly Cauldron

I don't know why this surprises me. It's not like anyone with half a braincell believes this administration actually values human life, but this is kinda low. President Fratboy and his Band of Very Merry Monkies have plans to...reshape...1-800-SUICIDE. Pam's House Blend has the story.

So. Let's think of all the ways this could go wrong, shall we? Anyone remember FEMA? That worked really well, didn't it?

I never used suicide hotlines when I was, well, suicidal. But I could have. I could have used the reassurance that I wasn't insane or alone or as fucked up as I thought I was. Two million people helped by this hotline. Two million people. Or do they not matter? Does the figure 'millions' only count when it's totally terminated pregnancies or dollars spent in Iraq? I get so confused, what with that crazy womb of mine making me all fuzzy-headed.

And can I just scream at the notion of "faith-based" suicide prevention??? That's what my family tried with me and frankly, it only made it worse. I have a good idea of what those sessions will be like.

Preacher: Now, Susie, why do you feel like killing yourself?
Susie: Well, I just....I just hurt all the time. And I'm sad. I can't stop crying and I think sometimes I hear voices and...
Preacher: Voices? Oh, Susie, that's just Satan trying to tempt you! You can't let him win, Susie. Here, read these Bible verses everytime you start to feel a little sad.
Susie: But, I don't just feel sad. I want to carve HELP ME into my skin with a rusty knife and...
Preacher: Susie, do you want to make Jesus cry? Aren't you grateful for his sacrifice on the cross? How can you be so selfish?
Susie: *blinkblink* Can I borrow that letter opener?

And really, do we need this government having access to personal information? Of people who are in pain and apt to be...less than themselves? I know that when I was suicidial, the things I said and felt and did were not reflective of who I truely am. If those things had been recorded, put in a database and pulled up years later? Shit. I was the most unstable person on the planet, a far cry from where I am now. And I'm grateful that no one has a record of that, that it's all in my mind. Because otherwise, there'd be all kinds of reasons to deny me jobs, medical treatment, loans, whatever.

This is fucking scary, the way this government keeps collecting data on people and most people just...don't notice. Sure, today they're not coming after you, but who do you think is going to protect you when the rest of us have been collected, cataloged and put on a shelf?

Labels: culture o'death, depression, lies, mental illness, suicide