Let’s leave aside the terrifying image of hordes of babies with assault rifles, shooting up the joint every time they don’t feel like taking a nap or are not allowed to have another cookie.
If they are babies? They have ALREADY BEEN BORN, and thus, were not aborted. I mean, I guess the armed babies could form some kind of vigilante group to terrorize abortion clinics and attempt to stop future abortions, but that’s a whole separate issue.
I’m sorry that you’ve been legally demoted from “person” to “incubator.” As always, New Jersey welcomes you.
Parts of southern New Jersey are barren wastelands similar to what I image North Dakota is like, so you should feel pretty comfortable here.
1. I’m pretty sure dudes pass out drunk at parties all the time, and no one interprets this as a license to jam shit up their asses.
2. If I’m passed out drunk in the middle of the road and am unable to communicate and am wearing no pants and a t-shirt that says “Yes, Please!” and you stick anything in my vagina, you just raped me.
1. I was not aware that Edgar Winters does sound, editing, set direction, and other sundry jobs for 75% of all films. Busy man.
2. Seth MacFarlane and the rest of the “writing” team hate women. Also they are shitty writers, because taking pot-shots at women is the laziest form of comedy, even lazier than puns.
As I was making dinner last night, I heard a commercial for a pregnancy test that promised to give you results as close to the moment of conception as possible; apparently, the ultimate goal is to know the very moment the Hero Sperm breaches the final ovum defense and lands its jet on the X chromosome in front of the “Mission Accomplished” banner.
I’m not sure how that would work absent some kind of invasive technology, perhaps where a turkey doneness-style pop-up device is implanted into the abdomen of all women of childbearing age
Then I wondered how farfetched that idea really was, given the current state of Blastocyst Rights and disregard for women’s bodily autonomy.
And then I thought, “maybe I should Google this.” But I got scared, because there are some things I just don’t want to know.
My job requires that I read a great many blogs. Some of them are great. Some of them are awful. Some of them make me laugh. Some of them make me cry. Some of them put me to sleep.
Some of them are written by young women displaying truly stunning critical thinking skills that cause them to write things like this:
As for the women who get multiple abortions, I most certainly believe that they should be sterilized after the second one, no matter the reasoning for them. If we allow women to have an easy way out because they are too lazy to get a shot or take a pill, the senselessness will continue.*
My head exploded when I read this woman’s post—and not just because I had to correct her grammar before I was comfortable posting this excerpt—splattering gray matter all over my new sofa. I paid good money for that sofa and would rather not have to throw it out, although I suppose it’s my fault for being too lazy to cover it with a tarp before wading into the morass of the blogosphere.
Really, I’ve always been pretty lazy. I should never have been allowed to buy the sofa in the first place, and should probably be barred from buying sofas in the future.
This is why I can’t have nice things.
*No, I will not provide a link. This behavior should not be encouraged.
It’s recently been brought to my attention that there are “Feminists for Romney.” Apparently, they believe that a government attempt at uterine colonization is a fringe issue that detracts from the more pressing problems of a sagging economy.
To these people, I might respectfully suggest that it is perhaps a bit shortsighted to think that women’s reproductive choices are not an economic issue.
I could suggest that in a much less respectful manner, so don’t force my hand.
You want to curtail my right to control what happens inside my personal uterus because once upon a time ten years ago, you saw the grainy outline of a pulsating bean on a tiny television screen.
Got it. Thank you for the compelling scientific data.
I assume this bodes well for my personal policy recommendation that we abolish public libraries because when I was 19 years old, I almost hit a Basset Hound with my car on the way to a library. Okay, it wasn’t a library, it was a Waldenbooks, but they’re out of business now so libraries it is.
What? It’s like you WANT puppies to die. You disgust me.
