Thursday, August 7, 2008

Pardon My Fat

As someone who has fought (and consistently, lost) the battle of the bulge, vindication may be just around the corner.  While thin people may enjoy the benefits of increased health, physical vitality, and clothing that doesn't make them look like they are racing in the Tour de France, those benefits may soon pale in comparison to the sole benefit of being overweight -- the ability to have your execution stayed on the grounds that you are too fat to fry.

That's right.  An Ohio inmate, Richard Cooey, is challenging his scheduled execution on the grounds that he is too fat to be put to death.  In particular, he is claiming that executioners would have trouble finding his veins and that his weight could diminish the effectiveness of one of the lethal injection drugs.

By the way, if you are wondering how fat is too fat to die, the answer is not that fat.  Cooey is only 267 pounds.  Is that really too fat to find a vein?  Who will be administering the legal injection -- Mr. Magoo?  I've been within striking distance of that weight on several occasions and, not once, has my doctor had trouble taking my blood (or ever-increasing co-payment for that matter).  In fact, my wife, who has absolutely no medical training, has assured me on several occasions that if she ever caught me with another woman, she could quickly find my jugular vein with a carving knife.  I believe her.  In fact, maybe we should get her to do the injection.

Or maybe Cooey's lawyer should stick with his most persuasive argument -- that Cooey is taking a drug for migraine headaches that may have created a resistance to the anesthetic drug given in the lethal injection process.  According to Cooey's lawyer, "All of the experts agree if the first drug doesn't work, the execution is going to be excruciating."  Of course, given that Cooey is allegedly incapable of receiving any medical treatment that requires an IV, life could become excruciating if he is allowed to live as well.

Think about it.  Let's suppose that Cooey comes down with an appendicitis.  Unable to find a vein, doctors are forced to operate on him without anesthesia.  And given that they can't find a vein under centimeters of fat on his arm, just imagine their luck at finding the inflamed appendix and removing it.  They'd have a better chance of finding a solvent sub-prime lender.

That being said, Cooey has taught me to embrace my inner fat-boy.  I will no longer abuse my body with proper diet and exercise.  What's the point?  After all, as the old saying goes, "A Twinkie a day, keeps the executioner away!"

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