The Germanwings Swiss Clinic

Sometimes I think about suicide. I don't contemplate it, don't get me wrong. But sometimes I think it is a nice, neat way to take control of you life and finish it at a time of your own deciding. It is kind of responsible, taking control of your own destiny. And with the over population of the world, maybe more people should be encouraged to do it. (That would only apply to the sane and sound of mind, of course. I'm not suggesting we should encourage the nutters to have a go, no matter how tempting it might seem)

The trouble is that there is no nice way to do it. All of the options are really terrible, which is good and a shame all at the same time, depending on your point of view. (yes, of course, we should be looking after the most vulnerable members of society, no question.)

I am pretty sure I wouldn't do it because I know my timing is always a bit off and I'd always be anticipating that tomorrow would be a great day. And it would be, as it always is. But, I am sure there are times in many people's lives when it would become a viable option, or at least, they would see it as such. (I'm not going that easily, a bad day is a bad day, but my future looks bright)

Of course, there is one good option and that is the Swiss clinic. What would you call it, the departure lounge, a motel set up for stepping off this planet in comfort. A little Enya, a box of tissues, sad sure. Now, if those who so wish could shuffle themselves off to the Swiss clinic for the green drink, I'm sure that would be a much more pleasant experience. The only way to make such an idea fly, so to speak.

I'm guessing that crashing an aeroplane into a mountain would be fairly thrilling, especially with a bird's eye view, a front row seat, so to speak. For some? (I have a barely under control fear of flying, so I would personally find it torture) For those with such an inclination. I'm imagining the pilot yodelling all the way down, (wasn't it the swiss Alps?) whooping and yahooing as the ground shot up towards him. So, I guess, one could say, he went straight to the "Swiss Clinic" so to speak. (Sacrebleu! it was the French Alps, but you know what I mean) Not the conventional way, but the same outcome, so to speak. Apparently, it was 700 k's an hour right into the side of that mountain. I'm guessing that would do it, hey?

Bugger everybody else, hey? Jesus! 150 people screaming as they realised what was about to happen to them. What would that sound like? It would kind of ruin the ambience of the final act, kind of hard to drown out with a little Enya. It would be kind of distracting to the thrilling ride down, I would have thought.

Oh, could you imagine what it would be like, to be a passenger?  No, well, I guess you couldn't, that is the horror of this story. Shake of the head. It is bad enough when something goes wrong, but to have nothing wrong with the plane, just the grey matter between one unfortunate individuals ears, who happened to be the pilot  in this case. Co-Pilot. Apparently, the pilot was trying to break down the cockpit door with an axe.

Mind boggling, as Sam would say. Unbelievable, really. As scenarios go, they don't come more nightmare than this.