Abortion and the Idiot Factor

By Kit-Bacon Gressitt


Author's note: This essay is eight years old, and I could have written it today, given the de facto abortion bans recently signed by Governors Kay Ivey (Alabama Rep), Brian Kemp (Georgia Rep), Mike DeWine (Ohio Rep), Matt Bevin (Kentucky Rep), and Phil Bryant (Mississippi Rep). And now, Gov. Jon Bel Edwards (Louisiana Dem) has indicated he'll sign yet another restrictive law if it passes the state legislature.

Update: Missouri's state legislature passed a "heartbeat" bill Friday, and Gov. Mike Parson (Rep) is expected to sign it.

 

Damn it, enough already. I mean it. These idiots just don’t give up!

When they learn to control their dicks, then—maybe then—is when they’ll have the moral authority to dictate to others. … Uh, nope, not even then. And we just passed one of them, lurking around, being an idiot.

We, my daughter and I, were stopped at the intersection of Craven and Twin Oaks Valley, heading to Cal State University San Marcos—and engaged in lofty didactic discourse, such as “Is there a bathroom near the parking lot?” and “I hate my life: Look at this menopausal zit!”—when there on the northwest corner stood one of the idiots, trying to impose his reproductive will on the world, poorly-penned signage and all.

abortion bansThe only visible difference between this street-corner numskull and the elected idiots is that the latter know better than to don baggy-ass pants and that anti-abortion fashion favorite, The Aborted Fetus T-shirt.

They must be real high-demand items at all the best anti-abortion conventions: “Mangled-fetus Ts right here! One for twelve dollars, two for twenty. Get ‘em while they last!” Yep, Ts and those little fetus dolls. Oh, and those bus-panel-sized posters the idiots park at high schools to convince teens not to have abortions.

What the idiots don’t understand about the posters is there's a direct line from grotesque imagery to abortion. It goes like this:
 
  1. Squeamish kids see the posters and need comforting.
  2. Comforting leads to close physical proximity.
  3. Close physical proximity leads to sex.
  4. Given the messages from the anti-sex freaks who tell kids all birth control fails so there’s no such thing as safe sex, the squeamish kids who are being comforted by the non-squeamish kids are probably being comforted sans benefit of prophylactics.
  5. This sets the stage for more abortions.

Yep, idiots. And when they’re not loitering on street corners or leching around public schools with their lewd posters, they’re prowling the prurient halls of the nation’s capitols, demanding one restriction or another on access to abortion.

From whence do these anti-abortion idiots muster up the gonads to prance so profanely into the realm of other people's genitalia? And to what end?

When it comes right down to it, what we’re talking about here— but what nary an idiot will admit—is "male" dominion over the "female."

Oh, sure, there are plenty of men out there who aren’t so neurotic, who’ve accepted women—and folks all along the gender spectrum—as their peers, men who are not looking for a mommy-slut they can control, men who’ve evolved into adulthood. Of course, they’re all gay.

Just kidding: Some of my best friends are straight men.

But for those who've failed to resolve their adjustment reactions to adulthood, well, women and all our gender-queer folks scare the skivvies off them, and their response is to grasp desperately, often violently, for control over our education, our fashions, our medical care, our entertainment, our employment, our opinions, our faiths—over our bodies. And that last one is the clincher: What greater power do humans have than to nurture new life within them? So what is the idiots' sorriest goal? To control our reproductive organs.

The idiots lust to master the ripe produce of our ovaries, the stroking cilia of our fallopian tubes, the dark, warm wetness of our wombs.

And if they can’t ride herd over their chattel by virtue of betrothal and diamond rings, remodeled kitchens, a little strong-arming; if they can’t actually crawl back into that safe, succulent place; they can at least leave their marks. And the “Kilroy was here” of the idiots’ sperm bears with it an obsessive, occasionally murderous, sense of ownership, much greater than pissing on a flat of military supplies.

Indeed, the moment they deposit their doses of symbiotic swimmers, the idiots assume possession. And the most heinous, most malicious, most objectionable act one can perpetrate upon idiot egos is to flush their foundling zygotes to oblivion, to say "No, thanks" to that biological imperative for progeny.

Yowza, do they despise that!

Funny, though: If they put all that anti-abortion fervor into realistic sex ed and safe, accessible birth control, they'd have few abortions to rail about. But, of course, that’s anathema to their true idiot agenda: to procreate, to perpetuate the species, to force us to full term.

What these idiots don’t understand, I tell my kiddo, is that they will never control reproduction, because there will always be people who refuse their fetters. Because there will always be people ready to whop the idiots upside the head and tell them to get over it.

Because, you idiots, there will always be people who know how to put a bit of sterile tubing, some suction, and a mayonnaise jar to good use.

Love,
K-B

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(Photo by Bruno Sanchez-Andrade via a Creative Commons license.)

A version of this was published March 28, 2010.