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What would zombies do?

Natalie Solent recounts the story of a woman left alone to give birth (when she had been told it was dangerous to do so) all by herself in a toilet in a hospital, while nurses refused to help. In Britain. She wonders: "How do we get our nerve back?"

The answer is you don't; nerves don't grow back. They're dead, Jim.

My youthful Anglophilia is just about gone and events like these are helping speed it on its way to oblivion. I'm glad I got to go to England when I was just out of high school, before the zombies took over. I will admit, I've been slogging through Mark Steyn's America Alone, and it's been a hard go not because he's a lousy writer (though the book is spready, and could really be compressed into a few of his columns) or because I disagree with him (I agree with just about everything he says), but because I simply don't care about Europe anymore. How can I care about people who don't care about themselves? The few actual live humans who still live in that hollow charnel house should leave before it collapses and takes them down with it.

Comments (4)

silvermine [TypeKey Profile Page]:

Oh my god. That's horrifying. And thanks to the comments, I've re-discovered Albert Nock.

And had a huge epiphany. My parents do favor public school. I've been considering homeschooling, but I couldn't bring myself to understand why I didn't see what my parents saw in public school. And then I just realized it this morning, when reading Nock on Dewey and education -- public school *never* worked. And my parents didn't go to public school. They didn't have a liberal arts education. They had a classical education, both went to Catholic school. They learned history, they learned latin. They understand the past -- but they don't fully understand the abomination that public school is.

Thank you. Even if you didn't intend this. :D

My parents were frank about why I was sent to public school when I entered the 2nd grade: they had no more money to send me to private school.

My father was a public school teacher. This was back in the days when the teacher's lounge (which was called a "lounge," not a "break room") was the one whose door upon opening would emit a thick, brownish cloud of tobacco smoke... Still, by this time (the 60s and 70s) the public school system had long been in the grip of the educationists and union leaders. My father had no illusions about his employers. Still, he and my mother made sure I already knew how to read. And fortunately not all the teachers of the "old style" (rulers across palms, etc.) were dead yet, and I was their favorite -- except when it came to penmanship; I had terrible handwriting and still do.

No one should kid themselves that this is just a European thing. Similar behavior is on the increase in this country.

Several years ago, I read about an ambulance paramedic in Washington, DC, who was trying to save someone's life. After consulting with a physician by radio, he followed the procedure the doctor told him to do. The paramedic got in trouble (I think he lost his job) because the procedure wasn't on the list of those he was authorized to perform.

Also, in the same city I was walking around with my parents and my pregnant sister. She started having labor pains and wanted to go to the hospital. The car was nearby and I knew there was a hospital within about a mile, but wasn't absolutely sure how to get to it. I asked a policewoman for directions, which she refused to give, stating that she would call an ambulance if we wanted but would not give directions to the hospital.

Oh I believe it. One major symptom is the transformation of our hospitals from gleaming monuments to cleanliness to filthy, germ-haunted sties. See, nurses won't scrub anymore because they are too busy being "as good as" doctors, and the orderlies give everything a lick and a promise with dirty mopwater. And anyway, we apparently don't need to wash anything because we have antibiotics and hand sanitizer. And no one will wash the patients, because that's menial work and everyone is too good to do menial work.

I've started telling people that if I get too sick to stay home just take me out to a field and leave me there -- anything but a hospital. I might make it lying out in the field; in the hospital I'll probably die from some superbug.

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Don't worry, he's just chopping broccoli.


This page contains a single entry from the blog posted on August 23, 2007 11:40 PM.

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