One of my favorite classic songs of the 1970s was written by Warren Zevon: “Poor, Poor Pitiful Me.” Here’s how it starts:

I lay my head on the railroad tracks
And wait for the Double E
The railroad don’t run no more
Poor, poor pitiful me

Poor, poor pitiful me
Poor, poor pitiful me
These young girls won’t let me be
Lord, have mercy on me
Woe is me.

The song is an obvious mockery of an entitled brat who whines at the slightest obstacle, wringing pity from the gullible as a means of getting his way. Fifty years ago that was simply funny. Now it’s the primary tactic in politics, since it seems to work like a charm.

Consider My Suffering, Good People

We were meant to feel sorry for Joe Biden when people questioned his competence and consciousness as he napped on the nuclear football. (I hope for his sake that it’s a Nerf.) We’re supposed to pity jihadis getting sent back to Hellholistan to live in the kind of societies they’re trying to set up in Minnesota. We were meant to have compassion for the thousands of slacker federal employees DOGE prevented from sending groomer agitprop to schoolchildren in Ghana.

And you know what? Millions of Chardonnay wives in the suburbs really did feel sorry for all of them. How many tears flowed down those expressionless, Botoxed cheeks as they banged out their outrage at Elon Musk on Bluesky? How many goat-smelling ANTIFA brats have blocked streets and bullied civilians on behalf of the privileged and the criminal in “mostly peaceful” protests that went completely unpunished? How many rainbow clerics this Sunday will tut-tut their torpid congregants against “triumphalism over injustice” this Independence Day weekend?

I Was Shamed in Front of My Children

The latest global pity party to which we are cordially invited will benefit British Liberal Democrat Member of Parliament Chris Coghlan. The poor man’s conscience is clear: All he did was cast a vote in Parliament that reflected the values of the well-scrubbed people with upper-class accents and updated, modern viewpoints. The bill he supported would save many millions of pounds for the National Health Service — the de facto new god of the Britons, the Providence that gives them life and keeps them safe. The bill would free up money to care for the children of refugees from the Muslim world, increasing British diversity — the nation’s last remaining value. And how would this brave bill accomplish that?

By ending needless suffering, granting old people dignity, and efficiently redirecting resources that are scarce to where they’re needed most by killing the old and the sick. No matter that these elderly or chronic patients had paid taxes all their lives, maybe served in the Royal Navy or lived through the Blitz. If their situations are hopeless, then the rational sentence is death. Or rather, “assistance in dying,” as per the language of the bill. In other words, let’s euthanize them like so many dogs and cats whose best days are behind them.

And what was Coghlan’s punishment for this? He was publicly denied a cookie. In front not only of his children, but of his children’s friends. To quote Evelyn Waugh’s Vile Bodies, “How too, too shy-making!” Let Coghlan tell the story in his own words and see if your stern eyes don’t mist with tears:

My Catholic Priest publicly announced at every mass he was denying me Holy Communion following the assisted dying vote. Children who are friends of my children were there. This followed a direct threat in writing to do this four days before the vote. 1/3 https://t.co/oK45gG7dsa

— Chris Coghlan MP (@_Chris_Coghlan) June 29, 2025

Okay, to be completely accurate, the priest denied Coghlan the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity, of Our Lord Jesus Christ. At least that’s what I believe; whether Coghlan believes it is a very open question, since he has said on social media that he’s only a Roman Catholic because he was “born into it” and has never really given it much thought:

[W]hether God exists or is simply the better part of ourselves is not something I felt the need to resolve. I was comfortable with the ambiguities of being a sometimes-agnostic Catholic, not agreeing with everything the church does, until this priest appeared to decide that my private religion was his public property. It was utterly disillusioning and quite whether I will be able continue as a Catholic only time will tell.

Woolly-headed, truculent, fiercely proud of his cowardice … Chris Coghlan is precisely the primate British institutions (including its flaccid churches) have been striving to produce for two generations. He followed all the rules, imbibed the appropriate instincts, and learned how to lead the carnivorous sheep. He’s exactly the sort of anthropoid toward which mindless evolution has been clicking away teleologically for eons to generate as the Last Man.

Should we reward him with pity? Before you answer, weigh his Sunday shaming against what he voted to inflict on millions of Britons who don’t have seats in Parliament, or even family members willing to care for them in their last days. Let’s see how “assisted dying” is working out in King Charles III, Defender of the Faith’s other dominion, Canada.

Helping the Helpless into the Grave

New Atlantis reports:

Since Canada legalized euthanasia in 2016, there has been a strange balancing act at the heart of its medical system. There is a national suicide prevention hotline you can call 24/7, where sympathetic operators will try to talk you out of killing yourself. But today there are also euthanasia hotlines, where operators will give you the resources you need to carry out your wish. Doctors and nurse practitioners are now in the business of saving the lives of some patients while providing death to others. …

Stories describing … a system that does encourage the vulnerable to seek medical death — are coming fast and hard lately. A number of recent news articles have reported on Canadians who, driven by poverty and a lack of access to adequate health care, housing, and social services, have turned to the country’s euthanasia system. In multiple cases, veterans requesting help from Veterans Affairs Canada — at least one asked for PTSD treatment, another for a ramp for her wheelchair — were asked by case workers if they would like to apply for euthanasia.

The New Atlantis reporter cites multiple cases bearing out this claim. I’ll cherrypick just two:

Nancy, 68, a former physician: “bright, capable, she’s tired, very, very tired.” Following a car accident, Nancy now has chronic pain. “She believed she had a lot more years to work,” so she didn’t save enough money. And there is Greg, 57, a writer who has diabetes, cardiac problems, anxiety and depression, and a history of trauma. Both need housing, but they can’t find any place that is accessible, safe, and affordable on an income mostly from disability benefits. The end is predictable. “Nancy has no other options,” while Greg’s “plan was to stretch his credit to the edges and then set a final date.”

Nor is state-sponsored suicide rare in Canada, as this commentator notes. It accounts for one death in twenty, and the toll keeps rising:

I want to add some context. The Vietnam Memorial has 58,276 names covering 20 years. Since June 2016 when MAID went into effect in Canada, 60,301 persons have been killed by the state, 15,343 in 2023 alone.

This madness must end. https://t.co/j2waWAm024

— S. Carter McNeese (@CarterMcNeese) July 2, 2025

So if you’re tempted to shed a tear for Coghlan instead of his victims, remember Flannery O’Connor’s warning: “Tenderness leads to the gas chamber.” 

And spare a prayer for Coghlan. Make it solidly biblical. May I suggest the imprecatory Psalms?

John Zmirak is a senior editor at The Stream and author or coauthor of 14 books, including The Politically Incorrect Guide to Immigration and The Politically Incorrect Guide to Catholicism. His newest book is No Second Amendment, No First.