Sometimes I Weep
May 2nd, 2006 at 9:26 pm by Preston Taylor HolmesWhen I find out about tragic stories like that of Joseph Clark, unfairly and inhumanely executed by the state, I weep. Which state? The murderous state of Ohio. A red state.
And I think about the horror he must have felt, as he told the bloodthirsty executioners, “It’s not working!”. It’s not working!
The Ohio Department of Corrections said Joseph Clark, 57, was pronounced dead at 11:26 a.m. EDT (1426 GMT) following an injection of lethal chemicals at the Southern Ohio Correctional Institution in Lucasville.
Then shortly after the poisons were supposed to have been pumping into his body, she said, he sat up saying, “It’s not working. It’s not working.”
Was it truly not working? Or was this just another example of how the state’s moral vein has collapsed?
Perhaps the state’s idea of “justice” is just as dry and flavorless as the steak, shrimp, chicken wings, fries and cherry pie that Joseph had to suffer through on the way to his own personal torture chamber.
It doesn’t matter why Joseph was executed. As far as he’s concerned, his life was “being taken because of drugs. If you live by the sword you die by the sword.” It’s only slightly ironic that his life was taken by drugs. Only slightly ironic.
And it doesn’t matter why he was executed, just know that, like all others before him, he didn’t deserve such cruel and unusual punishment.
UPDATE:
This post was an advertisement, paid for by Amnesty International.










May 3rd, 2006 at 11:08 am
The average time from death sentence to execution is 15 years (from the artical/link).
It’s a shame they didn’t poke at his veins at least twice everyday that he was on the “row”.
May 3rd, 2006 at 1:48 pm
Can someone give an award to Mary Dimsey (of Maryland) who so clearly gave her opinion of John Muhammad (the so-called ‘dc sniper’) when the judge was questioning her as a possible juror? The video is just great.
May 4th, 2006 at 3:07 am
I’m still trying to figure out why, to get around that “cruel and unusual stuff,” someone doesn’t propose we just have the convict stand in the middle of a room, with three, strategically spaced doors behind him, then hit a button.
Doors open; automated guns go BLAM!; dirtbag scooped into bodybag by industry-grade re-engineered Roombas.