A couple of short swipes at the Schiavo case:

1) In a Brett Favre-ian bout of mispronunciation/self-determination, “SHY-vo” has replaced “skee-YAH-vo,” or “skYAH-vo,” as the chosen way for the family name. I wonder if the name would be on everyone’s lips if it were slightly more of a mouthful, as it was to begin with.
“Shyvo… Oh, the poor dear’s SHY, and meek, and weak and helpless.” vs. “Skyah-vo… yeesh. Sounds dangerous.”

2) On TV and on websites, there is always a handy “before” picture of the lady. Two or three, actually. She’s very good-looking. Well, she was very good-looking. And now that she’s not as good looking as she was makes me sad, and draws me into the discussion and causes me to feel very, very, life-changingly bad for her, even though I don’t know her and never will, and spare the compassion I have for those who can feel pain to chip in on this media clusterfuck.

Wait, what?

Why her, why now?

And why do they keep showing those pictures? I get the impression — and I may be right — that a 450-pound ex-steel worker in a similar bind, who happened to be plain, wouldn’t get nearly the same amount of press. Do you think the idiot America cares what happens to ugly people? Of course, our steel worker would probably lose some weight living off a tube, but nonetheless, he also probably wouldn’t be objectively appealing either before or after– and so, wouldn’t garner sympathy from strangers, or media coverage, because fewer people would be attracted to his ordeal by the sadness over the lost beauty he never had to begin with.

3) Sometimes a person is just a person. Not a cause.