I'm sick with something that's making its rounds. I managed to keep it off until several necessary projects were finished. It's odd that one can do that and then collapse. I now sound like a hippopotamus which is funny.
This is a good opportunity to write about weird stuff:
The oldest death row inmate in the United States, who spent most of his life behind bars, has died of natural causes at age 94.
Viva Leroy Nash died late Friday at the state's prison complex in Florence, said an Arizona Department of Corrections spokesman.
Nash was still on death row, but spokesman Barrett Marson said Sunday he did not know if Nash died in his cell or in a medical facility at the prison.
Nash had been imprisoned almost continuously since he was 15 and was deaf, mostly blind, crippled, mentally ill and had dementia, said his attorney, Thomas Phalen. State prosecutors were appealing a federal ruling that Nash might not be competent to the U.S. Supreme Court at the time of his death, Phalen said.
He spent roughly eighty years of his life in prison.
It is the idea of a 94-year old death row inmate that is weird. We tend to associate criminality with prime ages. Old people are supposed to be frail and feeble and ultimately kind people, just as babies are supposed to be essentially good and kind. Whether this is the case I have no idea, but a few of those babies do end up on death rows, a few end up as saintly people and most as the rest of us.
This is not really related, but I have sometimes wondered if anyone would ever have children should children pop out as miniature teenagers instead of as babies. Imagine that.