Back the #%@& Off

I don't generally follow political campaigns in their every detail.  I know what I think, and I generally know who I'm voting for long before any serious debates happen.  I don't take part in political conversations or venture opinions on controversial topics in mixed company because all my life my opinion has been summarily dismissed because I've been deemed too young, too naive, too sheltered, too misinformed, too inexperienced to make any definitive statements.  Now I will make an exception.

I usually get all my political news in the early hours of the morning when my husband checks all his favorite blogs and news sites before heading off to work.  So, the recent attacks on Rick Santorum and his family have come to my attention, the ones that brand him a weirdo for taking home the body of their premature son before burying him.  Really, this has to be a new low.

The classic quotes circulating the internet are those of one Alan Colmes, saying this was one of the crazier of all the "crazy things [Santorum's] said and done," and a Eugene Robinson, who cites the incident as proof that Santorum isn't just "a little weird, he's really weird."

What is so weird and crazy about wanting to spend some time with the body of your child?!  It may be the only time you ever get.  As my husband curtly observed, people used to call it a wake.  I wish we could have had a whole night with our son.  We had a whopping 30 minutes in the morgue with hospital staff hovering over our shoulders the whole time.  They were probably afraid we would try to do something "weird" and  "crazy."  And don't try to tell me Little David was "just a fetus."  He was 24 weeks and only weighed a pound, but he was doing his best to breathe on his own even though his lungs wouldn't be fully developed for another eight weeks.  He was trying to cry and open his eyes far ahead of schedule.  He drowned in his own blood after fighting for life for two days, so don't tell me he doesn't count as a real person.

This is precisely why I don't follow the media storm.  I have a thousand better things to do than suffer the blathering opinions and half-baked reactions of the infantile minds which have taken upon themselves to be the mouthpieces of the nation.  They seem to be too absorbed in their extended adolescence to handle important adult issues like the realities of parenthood and death.  Little David's birthday is coming up in March, and we are definitely going to celebrate.  This Christmas his little stocking hung between ours, just like it will every year.  Is that morbid, weird, or crazy?

The only advice I have for the liberal media is some I live by myself, and that is to shut the hell up when you don't have a clue what you're talking about.