This is my thread

After reading about Jack the Cat I caught myself thinking. Damn, so for humans we will not under any circumstance help kill one, even if they ask for it themselves. I can't choose to end life if I so wish, and it's illegal for me to even try.

But for an animal, we assume that small chance of survival and high amounts of suffering means the cat is better off being killed. Isn't the will to live instinctive? Or, if it's so important to keep a human that wants to die from doing so, why do we then judge that quality of life is measured by pain or lack thereof? Why don't we kill burn victims?

My point isn't that we should start to let people that want to commit suicide do so, the point is why the fuck are we killing animals when they might want to live for all we know? Why do we pretend to be a God for animals when they are instinctively programmed to strive on no matter what?

Meh.
 
Well, actually, there's countries that legalized euthanasia and assisted suicide. I believe the Netherlands is one of them. But I know that's not your point.
 
Life on Earth needs to be restarted. Like...meteor-that-wiped-out-the-dinosaurs restarted. We've done enough tomfuckery.
 
Whenever my cat looks himself in the mirror, I expect something magical to happen. It doesn't. Why doesn't he recognize the awesomeness that is his reflection?
 
My Mom had surgery and she was in her bed on drugs watching big bang theory. She's the lightest lightweight that ever light weighted. I've seen her drink one beer my entire life. Point is the drugs had her higher than plies hairline. I went in her room and sat on the end of her bed and got a knot in my throat bc I hate to see her sick. I didnt know what to say. I said "I wanna have Sheldons babies." Tell me why she sat up in her bed and squealed "Me too!..did you see the one where he was in the ball pit yelling "bazinga!" ?"
No words.
 
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Oh I know. A buncha grown-ass men watching the game and they play a snippet of "Tonight I'm fucking you."

Gay as shit.

Had my first Thanksgiving away from my family and spent it with our class rep. He made some killer wings and tacos and a whole lot of them. Dude knows how to cook. Lost some money at the casino, saw my professor (the only one that knows my full name out of a class of 120+ students, and knows most of theirs as well) and now I'm worried he's going to call on me in class tomorrow, trying to punish me for going out to the casino when I should have been studying. He learned my name last week, and I've done every bad thing possible to get him to repeat my name into his memory, everything from not knowing the answer to not being able to hook up audio equipment properly in a classroom (no one else could either). I'm boned.

So here I am, reading the embryo book, fucking slapped out of my mind from the Jack and Cokes and I don't know what I'm going to do tomorrow.
 
Oh, if only you guys knew the truth.
 

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