Oh the hypocrisy

Recently a story about disability made the headlines. It’s the deep summer, of course, so newspapers and talk-radio stations are desperate for content. But this particular story genuinely bit hard and deep.

A letter had been sent to the mother and grandmother of a young autistic boy who lives just east of Toronto, complaining about the odd noises he makes, insulting him and his family, and complaining that he wasn’t aborted and advising euthanasia.

The self-righteous popular response to the trash was as intense and angry as it was selective. How could someone be so nasty, why didn’t they sympathize with the family, how dare they behave like an unfeeling brute? Everybody could feel cozy and kind, because they’d found a scapegoat and could point judging fingers.