Not a lot to say this morning. I feel bad about Teddy. Of course, people go through just as bad – and worse – every day. People whose families – on top of having to deal with the potential loss of a loved one and provider – don’t have the means to pay for the best treatment money can buy. So I reckon Teddy at least doesn’t have to worry about the money aspect.

Unfortunately for Teddy, “the best healthcare money can buy” probably means an aggressive combination of chemo and radiation, followed by periodic aggressive chemo treatments. In other words, he’ll more or less be tortured to death while being lauded for his fighting spirit, because staying alive at any cost no matter how miserable that makes your final days is what it’s all about (at least for the medical/pharmaceutical industrial complex).

Better to have 18 months of miserable, undignified life than six months spent with your loved ones being made as comfortable as possible and taking time to smell the roses, right? That extra time spent puking your guts out or rotting in hospital waiting rooms is more than worth it, isn’t it?

I hope somebody lets him smoke pot, at least.

I dunno. Why the hell does Teddy have to have a brain tumor, while Bush, Cheney, et al live to fuck the world for yet another day?