Happy day of birth, dark mistress.

My mistress told me to upvote this.

LOve to *beg mistress, make me baiiiig!

>> ^Boise_Lib:

John Edwards said the right things, but then so did Obama.


John Edwards also got caught getting his mistress pregnant while his dying wife underwent cancer treatment, and got caught up in some nasty election fraud allegations/shenanigans during his run for nomination back in 'oh-eight. Unfortunately his mess-ups will overshadow him being right about change being necessary in government.

This only serves to aggravate me. Another taxpayer panel in which we enjoy the benefit of plausible deniability (or whatever there greased 300,00$K lawyers claim works for the current system of worked in loopholes). More so, because I know not a single one of these sons of bitches will do time or ever care--really care. They should be in jail for life. They should be in a federal prison, full security, no white collar bullshit.

They should live on a meager sum the rest of the entirety of their days with all their buildings, lands, businesses, capital, funds, CDs, IRAs, everything except their social security and even that should be looked at (as they should be allowed a low middle income and that is IT); they can gain no earmarks, no passes from their buddies or gifts (although he can live with him as long as his money is not being paid out), they cannot benefit from a will or other form of transfer ship at an appointed time or setting, and then ANYTHING I haven't covered. No politics, no books, no television, no movies, you're in the "white collar" death knell that is their true jail cell. He CAN enlist in the army, they may have a modest job, but the dream of riches are OVER. They chose the ultimate path of pressure that can be exerted on a white collar criminal.

If only we thought that crime like that could be as dangerous as a murderer (and trust me--I'm sure many of you do know already--but, if you don't white collar crimes can end up killing thousands of people, but their hands are virtually clean). Perhaps it is part of the taboo we have with mental disease, we'd rather it remain in the back-room or rather in the back of your mouth. Strangely many of these white collar criminals most likely all suffer from having almost NO empathy for others; they literally could care less what it is like to be me or you. This is a mental issue, but we never talk of such things--it's rude! But, violence has its own mental disease "shards" as well that cause it to start either young or later in life...

But, we refuse to deal with the main topic, so how about punishment(s) atleast? White collar crime is seen as something you do at your beach house in Florida on the weekend. Your lawyer tells you about it on your flight into Boston on Monday, you have three death threats sent to your e-mail, you mildly humming, "Hip To Be Square", send them to your spam folder and block the senders after you send them a death threat/repossession letter back through a company proxy, which then you use another proxy to feed the final bytes through. Your lawyer tells you you'll have to show up to an injunction and say this exact prepared statement, which of course, nicely enough they allow you to read from when they take your testimony. This is our guy. Right now he's eating a stake with a glass of Chardonnay from Italy in the early 90's--meanwhile, "Easy Lover", is booming in the background while his mistress takes a swim in his Penthouse's swimming pool. He doesn't have to get up early, so it'll be a long night--after all nobody is coming for him.

Attack them hard and they might take notice.



What a new punishment that would be for white collar criminals--a death sentence, for them.



Just institute what I said above and it may change things. Attack the problem psychologically, as jail-time is either meaningless or to them it's "Club Fed". But, this of course requires good lawmakers, which requires competent voters, which requires a great education system...

No calls, no businesses, no helping: they are burnt.

Firstly, in cultures where older men choose younger wives (e.g. Middle East), the men have a say while the women do not.

This represents a minority group. India represents the vast majority of arranged marriages world wide and it is arranged for both male and female alike.

Really? So getting married off to someone you don't care for does not count as a "loss"? This is sexist to both the men and the woman in this scenario, while contradicting your previous point about the men being under duress. Now it's the ones who lose that are deprived (of the "prize" that is a wife), while the princess "wins" because she gets a husband. See the problem here?

Yes, really. It's simply factual that the two male losers (of the competition) don't marry. They lost = they are the losers. She doesn't compete so there are no losers on her side. Furthermore, the males are trying hard to win (it's easy to lose just shoot an arrow wide). So they are happy to participate even though they are under duress. So no contradiction I'm afraid. (whether or not you "win" by marrying is up to the individual - obviously not true for her).

two main underlying assumptions here.....

I'm not going to make any assumptions about whether arranged marriage is happy or good or whatever. I also don't know whether they last because of dependancy or not - if someone shows me some data supporting that hypothesis..... A lot of ethical and social progress has been made by going against tradition - but not all. And tradition is not fear of change, basically speaking it is a social link to the previous generation.

assumption that such a thing exists, when they are almost all socially constructed. Question: what are the "feminine characteristics" you see being abandoned in this clip? Humble obedience/subservience? What are the "masculine characteristics" you see as being taken on by the character? By answering these two questions you should be able to see what's wrong with those assumptions.

They are not even nearly almost all socially constructed. Firstly there are differences at a genetic level (we are sexual beings) Secondly, testosterone level differences create massive difference mentally and physically that account for the majority of character differences.

The last paragraph is just ridiculous. Yes, men naturally have more muscle-mass than women, but that has no bearing here (and, generally, anywhere): archery is not about strength (the first contender is so strong he only pulls the string half-way) but skill. That you would see it - and combat in general - as typically male just shows how gender stereotypes are deeply ingrained over time. As for "statistically improbable situations", puh-leez, this is still a cartoon we're talking about, and heroes/heroines will always be "better" than the comedic accessories.

No, it's not ridiculous. Men are stronger, have better muscle control, and significantly faster reaction speeds. There are lots of studies showing this - go look them up. It's why we dominate all sports, even ones that don't require strength, e.g. archery, low calibre pistol shooting, golf, badminton, etc. the list goes on. It may be an animated feature but it is still a reflection of real people and real life - otherwise what would be the point of talking about any movie.

Anyway, you've made some very valid points - I can't spend any more time discussing this (too busy) and I'm sure it will be a great movie (btw - I have multiple female children and I'm raising them to be what I call "pioneers" and not "princesses" - so they can do everything the boys do if they want - and when they choose to they do - I also have a bunch of boys).

>> ^hpqp:

>> ^harlequinn:
.......
>> ^hpqp:
......


Your answer contains a large amount of assumptions that seem to support my first point, and further underline the importance of media challenging the perception of gender-roles.
1. Arranged marriage is equally unfair in most cultures: half true. Firstly, in cultures where older men choose younger wives (e.g. Middle East), the men have a say while the women do not. Moreover, most cultures throughout history using arranged marriage allow(ed) the male to have mistresses (or even several more wives/concubines), but not vice-versa.
2. If she is the prize, there are 2 male losers but no female ones: Really? So getting married off to someone you don't care for does not count as a "loss"? This is sexist to both the men and the woman in this scenario, while contradicting your previous point about the men being under duress. Now it's the ones who lose that are deprived (of the "prize" that is a wife), while the princess "wins" because she gets a husband. See the problem here?
3. Is fighting tradition a good thing? Arranged marriages last longer: two main underlying assumptions here: "long-lasting marriage" is assumed to be a positive thing, and because arranged marriage relates to "tradition" in the first phrase, it is suggested that tradition is not all that bad. Of course arranged marriages last longer: most of the time they are relationships of dependency (particularly financial, but also psychosocial), and leaving such a relationship would often leave the woman in a very precarious situation (sometimes life-threatening). It is far healthier to be able to leave a loveless relationship when one wishes. More generally, ethical and social progress has always been made by going against the grain of tradition, the latter being the instinct to stick to what's known and familiar out of fear of change.
4. Feminine/masculine characteristics: assumption that such a thing exists, when they are almost all socially constructed. Question: what are the "feminine characteristics" you see being abandoned in this clip? Humble obedience/subservience? What are the "masculine characteristics" you see as being taken on by the character? By answering these two questions you should be able to see what's wrong with those assumptions.
The last paragraph is just ridiculous. Yes, men naturally have more muscle-mass than women, but that has no bearing here (and, generally, anywhere): archery is not about strength (the first contender is so strong he only pulls the string half-way) but skill. That you would see it - and combat in general - as typically male just shows how gender stereotypes are deeply ingrained over time. As for "statistically improbable situations", puh-leez, this is still a cartoon we're talking about, and heroes/heroines will always be "better" than the comedic accessories.
To paraphrase a close friend: the fact that we're discussing the feminism of a cartoon about an adventurous princess just goes to show we have a ways to go before achieving gender equality.
_{oh boy, I went on a rant, didn't I? Sorry for the wall of text!}

>> ^harlequinn:

Thank you, apology accepted. Perhaps I should have worded my question as one sentence, the second question was only meant to refine the first question - text communication is an imperfect medium.
You raise a very interesting point. I believe arranged marriage in most cultures is equally unfair on both males and females since they are both under duress to marry. In this clip we can only assume the males are under duress to compete for marriage. If she is their prize, they are equally her prize. And there will be two loser's on the male side but none on the female side.
Is fighting tradition a good thing? Apparently arranged marriages stick together more than traditional ones ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arranged_marriage - just looked it up, who knew!!)
In regards to the female in this clip: Is the abandonment of feminine characteristics a good thing? And the adoption of masculine characteristics a good thing?
In this particular instance they diminish the natural advantage males have in physical activities (an undeniable scientific fact) and make a statistically improbable situation. In a warrior culture, males are unlikely to be this incompetent.
>> ^hpqp:
@harlequinn, my apologies for assuming that your question was simply rhetorical, but concede that, since you give an answer to your own question (albeit slapped with a question mark), it comes off as very rhetorical indeed.
So is this the best way to remedy this? Make a movie measuring a girl's worth against her ability to do or better exactly what boys do?
And it's that "answer" that prompted my (dismissive, I admit) comment. This clip shows the main character shooting arrows better than the male contestantsy yes, but that is not the point; the point is, why is she doing that? Because she does not want to be married off; she is confronting the role of "princess to be married" because she wants to be able to make her own decisions about her life. I could go on about how women have historically gained rights by proving their worth in so-called "male" occupations (WWII anyone?) but I think the point is clear enough.



Your answer contains a large amount of assumptions that seem to support my first point, and further underline the importance of media challenging the perception of gender-roles.

1. Arranged marriage is equally unfair in most cultures: half true. Firstly, in cultures where older men choose younger wives (e.g. Middle East), the men have a say while the women do not. Moreover, most cultures throughout history using arranged marriage allow(ed) the male to have mistresses (or even several more wives/concubines), but not vice-versa.

2. If she is the prize, there are 2 male losers but no female ones: Really? So getting married off to someone you don't care for does not count as a "loss"? This is sexist to both the men and the woman in this scenario, while contradicting your previous point about the men being under duress. Now it's the ones who lose that are deprived (of the "prize" that is a wife), while the princess "wins" because she gets a husband. See the problem here?

3. Is fighting tradition a good thing? Arranged marriages last longer: two main underlying assumptions here: "long-lasting marriage" is assumed to be a positive thing, and because arranged marriage relates to "tradition" in the first phrase, it is suggested that tradition is not all that bad. Of course arranged marriages last longer: most of the time they are relationships of dependency (particularly financial, but also psychosocial), and leaving such a relationship would often leave the woman in a very precarious situation (sometimes life-threatening). It is far healthier to be able to leave a loveless relationship when one wishes. More generally, ethical and social progress has always been made by going against the grain of tradition, the latter being the instinct to stick to what's known and familiar out of fear of change.

4. Feminine/masculine characteristics: assumption that such a thing exists, when they are almost all socially constructed. Question: what are the "feminine characteristics" you see being abandoned in this clip? Humble obedience/subservience? What are the "masculine characteristics" you see as being taken on by the character? By answering these two questions you should be able to see what's wrong with those assumptions.

The last paragraph is just ridiculous. Yes, men naturally have more muscle-mass than women, but that has no bearing here (and, generally, anywhere): archery is not about strength (the first contender is so strong he only pulls the string half-way) but skill. That you would see it - and combat in general - as typically male just shows how gender stereotypes are deeply ingrained over time. As for "statistically improbable situations", puh-leez, this is still a cartoon we're talking about, and heroes/heroines will always be "better" than the comedic accessories.

To paraphrase a close friend: the fact that we're discussing the feminism of a cartoon about an adventurous princess just goes to show we have a ways to go before achieving gender equality.

_{oh boy, I went on a rant, didn't I? Sorry for the wall of text!}

http://lyrics.wikia.com/Sage_Francis:The_Best_Of_Times

It's been a long and lonely trip but I'm glad that I took it because it was well worth it.
I got to read a couple books and do some research before I reached my verdict.
Never thought that I was perfect. Always thought that I had a purpose.
Used to wonder if I'd live to see my first kiss.

The most difficult thing I ever did was recite my own words at a service
Realizing the person I was addressing probably wasn't looking down from heaven.
Or cooking up something in hell's kitchen, trying to listen in or eaves drop from some another dimension.
It was self serving just like this is.

Conveniently religious on Easter Sunday and on Christmas.
The television went from being a babysitter to a mistress.
Technology made it easy for us to stay in touch while keeping a distance,
'til we just stayed distant and never touched. Now all we do is text too much.

I don't remember much from my youth. Maybe my memory is repressed.
Or I just spent too much time wondering if I'd live to have sex.
Fell in love for the first time in 4th grade but I didn't have the courage to talk to her.
In 8th grade I wrote her the note but I slipped it in someone else's locker.

Considered killing myself 'cause of that.
It was a big deal. It was a blown cover.
It was over for me. My goose was cooked.
Stick a fork in me. The jig is up.
I blew my chances, the rest is history, our future was torn asunder.
It became abundantly clear that I was only brought here to suffer.

At least I didn't include my name.
Thankfully I wrote the whole note in code
And it had 10 layers of scotch tape safety seal making it impossible to open.
Plus, it was set to self destruct.
Whoever read it probably died…laughing.
I wonder if they lived long enough to realize what happened.

A year later, I came to understand that wasn't love that I was feeling for her.
I had someone else to obsess over.
I was older. I was very mature.
I forged my time signature while practicing my parents autograph 'cause I was failing math.
Disconnected the phone when I thought the teacher would call my home.

I checked the mailbox twice a day at the end of a long dirt road.
Steamed open a couple envelopes like I was in private detective mode.
If you snoop around long enough for something in particular you're guaranteed to find it.
For better or worse that's how I learned that it's best to just keep some things private.

It was the best of times. It was the end of times.

It was the best of times. It was the end of times.
I was always on deck, I was next in line.
An only child with a pen and pad writing a list of things that I could never have.
The walls in my house were paper thin.
Every squabble seemed to get deafening.
If my memory serves me correctly I made it a point to void and forget some things.
Probably to keep from being embarrassed.
Never meant to upset or give grief to my parents.
Kept my secrets…hid my talents…
In my head, never under the mattress.

Therapy couldn't break me.
Never learned a word that would insure safety.
So I spoke softly and I tip toed often.
The door to my room was like a big old coffin.
The way that it creeked when I closed it shut.
Anxieties peaked when it opened up.
As if everything that I was thinking would be exposed.
I still sleep fully clothed.

It was the best of times.

It was beautiful.
It was brutal.
It was cruel.
It was business as usual.

Heaven. It was hell.
Used to wonder if I'd live to see 12.

When I did I figured that I was immortal.
Loved to dance but couldn't make it to the formal.
Couldn't bear watching my imaginary girlfriend
Bust a move with any other dudes.

Tone Loc was talking bout a "Wild Thang"
But I was still caught up in some child thangs.
Scared of a God who couldn't spare the rod.
It was clearly a brimstone and fire thang.

Pyromaniac. Kleptomaniac.
Couldn't explain my desire to steal that fire.
Now I add it to my rider.
Like "Please oh please don't throw me in that patch of brier!"

It was the best of times. It was the end of times.

The school counselor was clueless 'cause I never skipped classes.
Perfect attendance. Imperfect accent.
Speech impediment they could never really fix
And I faked bad eyesight so I could wear glasses.

Considered doing something that would cripple me.
I wanted a wheelchair. I wanted the sympathy.
I wanted straight teeth so then came braces.
4 years of head gear helped me change faces.

It was the best of times. It was the end of times.

Now I wonder if I'll live to see marriage.
Wonder if I'll live long enough to have kids.
Wonder if I'll live to see my kids have kids.
If I do I'm gonna tell 'em how it is.

"Don't listen when they tell you that these are your best years.
Don't let anybody protect your ears.
It's best that you hear what they don't want you to hear.
It's better to have pressure from peers than not have peers.
Beer won't give you chest hair. Spicy food won't make it curl.
When you think you've got it all figured out and then everything collapses…
Trust me, kid…it's not the end of the world."

SREDNI VASHTAR

Conradin was ten years old, and the doctor had pronounced his professional opinion that the boy would not live another five years. The doctor was silky and effete, and counted for little, but his opinion was endorsed by Mrs. De Ropp, who counted for nearly everything. Mrs. De Ropp was Conradin's cousin and guardian, and in his eyes she represented those three-fifths of the world that are necessary and disagreeable and real; the other two-fifths, in perpetual antagonism to the foregoing, were summed up in himself and his imagination. One of these days Conradin supposed he would succumb to the mastering pressure of wearisome necessary things---such as illnesses and coddling restrictions and drawn-out dulness. Without his imagination, which was rampant under the spur of loneliness, he would have succumbed long ago.

Mrs. De Ropp would never, in her honestest moments, have confessed to herself that she disliked Conradin, though she might have been dimly aware that thwarting him ``for his good'' was a duty which she did not find particularly irksome. Conradin hated her with a desperate sincerity which he was perfectly able to mask. Such few pleasures as he could contrive for himself gained an added relish from the likelihood that they would be displeasing to his guardian, and from the realm of his imagination she was locked out---an unclean thing, which should find no entrance.

In the dull, cheerless garden, overlooked by so many windows that were ready to open with a message not to do this or that, or a reminder that medicines were due, he found little attraction. The few fruit-trees that it contained were set jealously apart from his plucking, as though they were rare specimens of their kind blooming in an arid waste; it would probably have been difficult to find a market-gardener who would have offered ten shillings for their entire yearly produce. In a forgotten corner, however, almost hidden behind a dismal shrubbery, was a disused tool-shed of respectable proportions, and within its walls Conradin found a haven, something that took on the varying aspects of a playroom and a cathedral. He had peopled it with a legion of familiar phantoms, evoked partly from fragments of history and partly from his own brain, but it also boasted two inmates of flesh and blood. In one corner lived a ragged-plumaged Houdan hen, on which the boy lavished an affection that had scarcely another outlet. Further back in the gloom stood a large hutch, divided into two compartments, one of which was fronted with close iron bars. This was the abode of a large polecat-ferret, which a friendly butcher-boy had once smuggled, cage and all, into its present quarters, in exchange for a long-secreted hoard of small silver. Conradin was dreadfully afraid of the lithe, sharp-fanged beast, but it was his most treasured possession. Its very presence in the tool-shed was a secret and fearful joy, to be kept scrupulously from the knowledge of the Woman, as he privately dubbed his cousin. And one day, out of Heaven knows what material, he spun the beast a wonderful name, and from that moment it grew into a god and a religion. The Woman indulged in religion once a week at a church near by, and took Conradin with her, but to him the church service was an alien rite in the House of Rimmon. Every Thursday, in the dim and musty silence of the tool-shed, he worshipped with mystic and elaborate ceremonial before the wooden hutch where dwelt Sredni Vashtar, the great ferret. Red flowers in their season and scarlet berries in the winter-time were offered at his shrine, for he was a god who laid some special stress on the fierce impatient side of things, as opposed to the Woman's religion, which, as far as Conradin could observe, went to great lengths in the contrary direction. And on great festivals powdered nutmeg was strewn in front of his hutch, an important feature of the offering being that the nutmeg had to be stolen. These festivals were of irregular occurrence, and were chiefly appointed to celebrate some passing event. On one occasion, when Mrs. De Ropp suffered from acute toothache for three days, Conradin kept up the festival during the entire three days, and almost succeeded in persuading himself that Sredni Vashtar was personally responsible for the toothache. If the malady had lasted for another day the supply of nutmeg would have given out.

The Houdan hen was never drawn into the cult of Sredni Vashtar. Conradin had long ago settled that she was an Anabaptist. He did not pretend to have the remotest knowledge as to what an Anabaptist was, but he privately hoped that it was dashing and not very respectable. Mrs. De Ropp was the ground plan on which he based and detested all respectability.

After a while Conradin's absorption in the tool-shed began to attract the notice of his guardian. ``It is not good for him to be pottering down there in all weathers,'' she promptly decided, and at breakfast one morning she announced that the Houdan hen had been sold and taken away overnight. With her short-sighted eyes she peered at Conradin, waiting for an outbreak of rage and sorrow, which she was ready to rebuke with a flow of excellent precepts and reasoning. But Conradin said nothing: there was nothing to be said. Something perhaps in his white set face gave her a momentary qualm, for at tea that afternoon there was toast on the table, a delicacy which she usually banned on the ground that it was bad for him; also because the making of it ``gave trouble,'' a deadly offence in the middle-class feminine eye.

``I thought you liked toast,'' she exclaimed, with an injured air, observing that he did not touch it.

``Sometimes,'' said Conradin.

In the shed that evening there was an innovation in the worship of the hutch-god. Conradin had been wont to chant his praises, tonight be asked a boon.

``Do one thing for me, Sredni Vashtar.''

The thing was not specified. As Sredni Vashtar was a god he must be supposed to know. And choking back a sob as he looked at that other empty comer, Conradin went back to the world he so hated.

And every night, in the welcome darkness of his bedroom, and every evening in the dusk of the tool-shed, Conradin's bitter litany went up: ``Do one thing for me, Sredni Vashtar.''

Mrs. De Ropp noticed that the visits to the shed did not cease, and one day she made a further journey of inspection.

``What are you keeping in that locked hutch?'' she asked. ``I believe it's guinea-pigs. I'll have them all cleared away.''

Conradin shut his lips tight, but the Woman ransacked his bedroom till she found the carefully hidden key, and forthwith marched down to the shed to complete her discovery. It was a cold afternoon, and Conradin had been bidden to keep to the house. From the furthest window of the dining-room the door of the shed could just be seen beyond the corner of the shrubbery, and there Conradin stationed himself. He saw the Woman enter, and then be imagined her opening the door of the sacred hutch and peering down with her short-sighted eyes into the thick straw bed where his god lay hidden. Perhaps she would prod at the straw in her clumsy impatience. And Conradin fervently breathed his prayer for the last time. But he knew as he prayed that he did not believe. He knew that the Woman would come out presently with that pursed smile he loathed so well on her face, and that in an hour or two the gardener would carry away his wonderful god, a god no longer, but a simple brown ferret in a hutch. And he knew that the Woman would triumph always as she triumphed now, and that he would grow ever more sickly under her pestering and domineering and superior wisdom, till one day nothing would matter much more with him, and the doctor would be proved right. And in the sting and misery of his defeat, he began to chant loudly and defiantly the hymn of his threatened idol:

Sredni Vashtar went forth,
His thoughts were red thoughts and his teeth were white.
His enemies called for peace, but he brought them death.
Sredni Vashtar the Beautiful.

And then of a sudden he stopped his chanting and drew closer to the window-pane. The door of the shed still stood ajar as it had been left, and the minutes were slipping by. They were long minutes, but they slipped by nevertheless. He watched the starlings running and flying in little parties across the lawn; he counted them over and over again, with one eye always on that swinging door. A sour-faced maid came in to lay the table for tea, and still Conradin stood and waited and watched. Hope had crept by inches into his heart, and now a look of triumph began to blaze in his eyes that had only known the wistful patience of defeat. Under his breath, with a furtive exultation, he began once again the pæan of victory and devastation. And presently his eyes were rewarded: out through that doorway came a long, low, yellow-and-brown beast, with eyes a-blink at the waning daylight, and dark wet stains around the fur of jaws and throat. Conradin dropped on his knees. The great polecat-ferret made its way down to a small brook at the foot of the garden, drank for a moment, then crossed a little plank bridge and was lost to sight in the bushes. Such was the passing of Sredni Vashtar.

``Tea is ready,'' said the sour-faced maid; ``where is the mistress?'' ``She went down to the shed some time ago,'' said Conradin. And while the maid went to summon her mistress to tea, Conradin fished a toasting-fork out of the sideboard drawer and proceeded to toast himself a piece of bread. And during the toasting of it and the buttering of it with much butter and the slow enjoyment of eating it, Conradin listened to the noises and silences which fell in quick spasms beyond the dining-room door. The loud foolish screaming of the maid, the answering chorus of wondering ejaculations from the kitchen region, the scuttering footsteps and hurried embassies for outside help, and then, after a lull, the scared sobbings and the shuffling tread of those who bore a heavy burden into the house.

``Whoever will break it to the poor child? I couldn't for the life of me!'' exclaimed a shrill voice. And while they debated the matter among themselves, Conradin made himself another piece of toast.

>> ^budzos:

I guess we'll have to agree to disagree. Maybe some day you'll become enlightened enough to realize that the conscious choice to end a human life is ALWAYS wrong. It doesn't achieve anything but the psychic/spiritual degradation of us all.
I have to take offense at the stupid canard/strawman in your second paragraph. In an ideal world, it would be impossible for governments to declare war (AKA ordering mass murder). But it's not an ideal world yet, so war is going to be around for a while longer. However, elimination of the death penalty does not require an ideal world at all. It simply requires a sane, humane, empathetic approach to the issue (see the dozens of countries around the world with no death penalty as an example).


Always wrong though? Like if someone is trying to kill my daughter and I kill him in the struggle? I don't really have absolute moral authority to dictate right and wrong for you, but for myself, yes, death is something to be avoided whenever and wherever you can. Animal carnage, I despise. However, I do consider using death as a form of justice; a form of rational punishment. For instance, if I caused 400 damage to your property, I consider it a rational course of justice that 400 dollars of fine/reciprocity be extracted from the offender, and perhaps a little extra to discourage the activity. Likewise, it seems rational to expect that someone who takes a life, should in turn, have his life taken, it is a consistent course of reason. The one flaw being that, even after his life is taken, the life of the original party is not restored. That isn't our fault, though, just our inability as humans to ever achieve perfect justice. Like those in Enron, they stole far more then they could ever repay...no perfect justice could ever be done.

So I agree, animal barbarism as a justification for murder is pretty much always bad, or wrong as one might say morally. But I think you can support completely rational grounds for ending a life. Hell, I have considered suicide many times, which one can say is a form of self murder. That is where I find the argument for "ending a human life is always bad" breaks down. Likewise, my grandmother recently passed from emphysema. It was dreadfully painful watching her die. And in that, if she asked someone to help her die, I could not say it evil...the pain was so great. I am no utilitarian, but I don't think that dying is so bad or living so good. Living a life in prison being butt raped doesn't sound much better than just dying, I would rather die. To each his own, it sounds like you have stuff to live for and junk, so I can understand your zeal against death. I don't find humans entitled to anything, like life, I only value our rational agreements between each other. And those who choose not to play by the rule of rational existence, well, then they are playing by the rules of the jungle; and the jungle is a harsh mistress.

Beyond all that though, the practical notion that we are murdering innocent people is enough, to me, to call the whole ordeal off. I thank you for your response, and I didn't mean to offend with the war comparison. I was making the comparison that we do, indeed, live in an imperfect world where wars happen, so governments have the ability to counter act that. I thought that laterally compared to murder. though. Murder is in essence war against that person. A person at war with the state, in an imperfect world, can rationally be "terminated" by the war example. I don't mean to offend, and I am usually horrible in arguing such things in text, I should refrain from doing so ever again.

edited (like always, I am so bad at writing )

Evolution is a harsh mistress.

Well there's an epiphany for ya. Our national genetic material comes from murderers, thieves and the criminally insane. We love war and death and guns and weapons of mass destruction. We have high rates of violent crime. Our cinema, television programs, videogames and music are fixated on fear and violence. We are angry and anxiety ridden, gobbling up illegal, over the counter and prescription drugs in massive quantities. Are all of us part of the sickness? If we were, how would we know it? Sorry for the grim thoughts. >> ^Skeeve:

Maybe it's just because I just finished reading Heinlein's "The Moon is a Harsh Mistress" but sometimes I feel like if we "evacuated" all thieves for a few generations we wouldn't have this problem to begin with.

Oh thank you, chicchorea!
I was trying for a crown before 1 year, but I guess this will do.

*crams cake in face* What's a fork?

In reply to this comment by chicchorea:
A year old and a diamond to boot.

Well done Mistress. Fork?