This story is so pathetically sad. How twisted can parents’ “love” get?
Deeper in the bowels of the transcripts: “The record also shows that she told Conrad that if her son was going to return to life with him after recovering from his stroke, she would prefer he not recover at all.” Twisted.
If you have any chance of this happening to you, take time now to get your legal documents in order. I have a medical power of attorney in place, and other documents as noted here. Do you?
Some pretty heavy stuff going on over on the Real Live Preacher’s blog. If you don’t understand depression in others, or have dealt with the “black dog” yourself, you’d probably be interested in his piece, and even more so in the dozens and dozens of comments posted in response to it.
In his subsequent entry, he takes an interesting look at the blurring lines of his blog readers and the people in his real life.
A new favorite over on onesentence.org:
RobVisiting Virginia, I thought the grocery clerk was calling my newborn son precious when in fact she was telling me in her southern drawl to “press yes” on the keypad. 2007-08-06 17:02:46 / Rating: 9.75 / |
I worked at IBM today, spending most of my time analyzing and comparing the structures of installation guides and problem determination guides for the set of products that I edit. Let’s just say that Archie Bunker’s assessment would be, “These guides are not circumcised.”
I listened in on an hour-long teleconference on installation and deployment best practices. No comment.
I left IBM at about 7:50, and stopped by Helios, where I updated my obituary, and had a lengthy instant message conversation with Irene (qualitiesoflife).
I read some Owen Meany before falling asleep.