Except he can't commit suicide because he has "locked-in syndrome," which means his mind works fine but everything below his neck is paralyzed. A 2005 stroke left the 57-year-old unable to speak and he communicates largely by blinking. His case has been making headlines in Britain because the man wants a court to OK a doctor to end what he calls his "dull, miserable, demeaning, undignified and intolerable" life.
Today, the country's high court said it would hear his case.
As soon as you step in the elevator of Las Vegas' new Mob Museum, a cop on a video monitor reads you your rights. When the doors finally open, you're greeted by a huge photo of 1920s-era gangsters standing in a police lineup, wearing fedoras.
There are hundreds of "car campers" in Seattle's old Ballard neighborhood. They're not homeless, as long as they can find a place to park. But that's getting harder as "no overnight parking" signs close in.
When presidents give major set-piece speeches, they're mainly engaged in exercises in futility since a commander-in-chief's high-flown rhetoric rarely shifts voter attitudes for long.
Indeed, the exercise could even be more negative than neutral since speeches by presidents advocating specific policy not only leave citizen unswayed but can fire up political opponents in the other party, according to Ezra Klein in an essay in the New Yorker.
With a fierce yell and a resounding thwack, 13-year-old Japanese student Nanami Usui brings her bamboo sword down on her opponent.
By practicing Kendo, or Japanese swordsmanship, Usui is one of several students in the town of Minamisanriku who are rebuilding their confidence after last year's tsunami washed away their homes and shattered their hometown in the country's northeast.
Usui says she dreams of being a police officer, but she doesn't know yet where she wants to live and work.