Assisted suicide is the stupides thing I've ever heard of.
It seems to me that it's much more final to make the decision and act upon it yourself. If you jump off of a bridge, or slice your own wrists, that's confronting your own mortality. That's taking your decision into your own hands, and coming to peace with your final decision. In a manner of speaking.
The argument probably goes something like this--
Unless you're so depressed that you don't know what you're doing, you just want the pain to end, and suicide seems like a reasonable option. But assisted suicide is classy. It implies a well-thought-out decision. Not that you're like, I dont know... so depressed over your inevidable deterioration and demise, or in so much pain that you just want the pain to end, and suicide seems like a reasonable option.
I think assisted suicide is like buying a package of boneless chicken breasts from the supermarket.
There's the little plastic thing that soaks up the yucky juices and blood, and it's in styrophome and all shrink-wrapped prettily with a fancy logo on it... you didn't chase it around the coop, you didn't grab it by the neck and chop off it's head and spray blood on your apron. You didn't pluck the feathers, dislocate the hip from the torso with a cleaver, or get animal slime all over your hands.
But really, what do you have in the end? A package of six breasts that have been cleaved off the ribcages of at least three chickens--a shrinkwrapped pile of mutilated chicken titties.
Paying someone else to kill you is so chickenshit.