Beginning to Pour

“What about this teenage kid? Where the parents are fighting with the doctors over treatment. In State custody…”

“I hate it. The State never makes things better.”

“Agreed.”

“But what if your neighbor’s kid is sick and they won’t take her to the hospital? Religious nuts or whatever.”

“The thin line between a right to die and a right to kill.”

“Not a straight line either.”

“No. It’s not the seventies any more.”

“What if the kid breaks his arm in three places. Parents don’t want to get a cast or anything. A fifteen year old kid.”

“Is the lack of treatment the same as abuse?”

“Omission becoming commission.”

“I feel like the State becoming involved is just horrible. But letting the kid suffer or get worse or whatever is also horrible. I wish there was a third way, but I don’t see one.”

“Same with vaccines. Who is the government to force me to inject some ‘acceptable level of disease’ into my kid?”

“But who are you to be able to walk around with fucking polio or plague or whatever.”

“I was thinking more measles, but the point’s the same.”

“It’s the same with all this regulation shit. I don’t think the State knows its ass from a hole in the ground. But I know I’ll get fucked or worse if they’re not keeping businesses in check. Banks. Milk guys. Everybody.”

“Milk guys.”

“I don’t know what they hell they’re feeding cows. Somebody needs to make sure that milk’s safe to drink. I’m not a lab rat.”

“A lot of people think that pasteurization process is complete shit. Lots of action in the underground fresh milk market.”

“Guess they haven’t heard of Mad Cow disease.”

“That meat was inspected. How safe are the dead people?”

“That’s what I mean. My kingdom for a third way.”

“I see your point.”

“It’s Ash Wednesday. I see your face is no dirtier than usual. Upset at the Pope dropping an F-bomb at the Vatican?”

“I’ll go after work. I’m building up to it.”

“What are you giving up?”

“Caring most likely.”

“Have you tried the 18-year old Jameson’s?”

“Not yet. But I’m willing.”

“Feel the burn.”

“Title of my autobiography.”

“Slon.”

“Hot. Another. For the Holy Ghost.”

“What about Murph?”

“I’ll have the 12-year old for him. He was never fancy.”

“Bet he wouldn’t trip on his dick when a pretty girl walked by.”

“Slon. Pour the twelve.”