How To Convince Radical Fauxminists This Is All. Their. Damn. Fault.

Originally, I set out to write a "How to never be with a guy who would try to manipulate you into having an abortion" counter-piece to this trash, but turns out typing "Don't date asshole scum" does not a full blog post make. So instead, I've decided to write yet another open letter to all the radical fauxminists of the world who have no freakin' excuse to be outraged by this douchebag's article, because it was soooooo the next logical step in this idiotic movement of theirs. Wish me luck, here goes...

Dear Gloria Steinem and Co.,

You finally did it, sisters. You're finally there. Where you ask? Well let me tell you, you're all finally equal suckasses in the town of suckassville, where there might be barf all over the floor, but at least the gumball machine's stocked full of Plan B! So, party on, right?!

See, forty years ago you "won" us the right to choose life or death for our offsprings, and now the inevitable has happened- frat boys with the emotional depth of a clogged urinal have managed to duplicate their one pathetic brain cell, and wise up just enough to demand their own dose of equality by asking for the right choose as well. And I mean, can we really blame them? They did the same deed, sowed the same seed, so why shouldn't they get a say? What, like when you kill your children it's all cute and delicate and shiz, but when they want the very same thing it suddenly becomes a mean, manly, lumberjacky abortion? Shooo gurl, that's sexist. And you know better. 

Thing is, they're asking for the exact same thing you are... freedom from responsibility, at all costs. They're not ready to shoulder the burden of parenthood. They're equally as irresponsible as you, and maybe they can't afford a kid right now either, or just want to finish school first, or have prom coming up and sitters be expensive, yo. So why are you so outraged when one of them writes something like "How to convince a girl to get an abortion?" When what you really should be upset about is the fact that he feels the need to manipulate you into doing so. He shouldn't have to stoop to that level just because he wants junior ripped limb from limb. All he should have to do is ask, which is why I am going to propose the following....

If you're really all for equality like you claim to be, than I think the baby batter donor of that little bun in your oven should get just as much say as you do in whether or not your child gets to live or die.

Granted, we must acknowledge this fetus fiesta is happening in your body, and I do think that counts for something. Because of that, I propose that you get ultimate veto power, BUT it will come at a cost. Here's what I'm spitballing... 

If he says abort and you say no, he's off the hook when it comes to all future child support payments and parenting responsibilities. That's only fair, and like equality or something, right? I mean, doesn't that just make your feminist parts tingle with liberation?! You had your shot, you chose not to abort, now he gets his chance to cut all parental ties as well.

Second scenario, if you want to abort and he does not, you must payout damages for his emotional distress. I looked it up and the internet said it's actually a pretty easy thing to prove. Here's all he needs to do to win big bucks:

• You must have experienced severe emotional distress. (You're killin' his kid, so yeah, duh.)
• The defendant's conduct has to be outrageous or extreme. The conduct must include more than threats, insults, indignities and annoyances. However, the actions do not have to include any physical harm. (Threatening to kill his bambino, THEN actually doing it through physical harm to said bambino. Cha-ching!)
• You must prove the defendant's act was reckless or intentional. For example, the defendant harassed you or intentionally told you of a family member's death that wasn't true. (But in this case the family member, his son or daughter, will actually die, so they'll probably add a few extra zeros for that one too.)
• The defendant's actions must actually be the cause of your emotional distress. (And obviously they are. He sees his future hopes and dreams in your womb fruit, and you're about to have it obliterated.)

See? Easy-peasy to prove, especially since you won't contest because, feminism. All that money you're gonna save on pampers you can just put straight towards the payout. (Wo)Man, I bet you're loving equality so hard right now. And there it is at its finest. At least as fine as anything can be in the suckass town of suckassville where rather than striving to achieve unique greatness in our own genders, everyone would rather settle for the most base level of equality.

So sayonara suckassers.

Signed,

A real feminist who sees that going from an "incubator" to a "semen receptacle" is no progress at all.

And that's all we're gonna say about that...

"I kept thinking Miley reminded me of all the little girls I have come into contact with through years of social service who have been sexually molested. Little girls who made me completely horrified, saddened and creeped out in the way they constantly tried to cross inappropriate physical contact lines with everyone around them, because they have been taught that is what is expected of them- that it pleases adults. 

Miley seems to me like a child molested 

by the entire culture."

~Christina Sanantonio

She sees you, Daddy...

She always thought Mommy was the prettiest woman in the world, as they’d lie on the bed basking in the afternoon sun pouring through the window, she fit so perfectly snug against Mommy’s curves. Mommy turned on her side one time and her baggy shirt revealed scars on her hips and stomach. She gently traced them with her fingers and quietly asked, “What are these Mommy?” After a moment Mommy replied, “Those are my warrior scars, baby… They show the world that I’ve done one of the toughest things a woman can do, and lived to tell about it. I brought forth life.” She wanted to be just like Mommy… a warrior too.

She was seven when that all changed though, as your eyes fixated on the woman who had just walked into the restaurant. Mommy was too busy wiping mashed potatoes off baby brother’s hands to notice, but she saw you. She watched as your eyes follow the woman all the way to her seat, and she noticed how this woman’s beauty had captivated you. She studied the woman carefully, noticing the sexy way she dressed even though she didn’t know the word to describe it at the time. And in that moment she wanted to be just like her. That woman may not be a warrior, but she had your full, undivided attention.

After dinner you came back home and began to shuffle through the monotony… baths, teeth, PJ’s, and bed. After you tucked her in, she laid awake in her room thinking about the beautiful woman… the way she walked, the way she dressed, the way she did her hair. She thought about the woman for quite some time when suddenly she heard you and Mommy arguing down stairs. “What do you mean it’s overdue… I thought we just paid it!” Mommy’s voice was too quiet to hear, but she could tell Mommy was crying. She heard you yell, “Well, maybe you should get a job already?” And with that she was very confused. Mommy was always telling people she had the best job in the world, taking care of her and little brother… but maybe you didn’t think so. Maybe you think there’s something better than being a warrior. She wondered if maybe being beautiful like the woman was better...

She tossed and turned until finally the scary shadows in the corner got the best of her. She slowly snuck out into the dimly lit hall and went towards the glow coming from your study. She was drawn to you like a moth to a flame. She stood in the threshold a moment, gathering the courage to let you know she was out of bed, then gently pressed the door open, making a creak and prompting you to immediately close your browser window. But it was too late. She had already seen what you were looking at… another beautiful woman with long flowing hair just like the one from the restaurant earlier, again moving sensually before your eyes. She turned her tiny face up at you and hesitantly asked, “Daddy, do you think I’m pretty?” to which immediately you replied, “Absolutely, baby… just like your mommy.”

And in that moment she knew, she didn’t want to grow up to be a warrior like Mommy, she wanted to be beautiful and sexy like the women she saw you adore.

Nature vs. Nurture - One woman's journey to discover the true value of human life...

"I was born to a real life, 100%, granola eating, acid dropping, hairy legged hippie who raised me to always be proud of my womanly capabilities. I knew at a young age the importance of things like breastfeeding etc. She taught me the "my body, my choice" religion. I can even remember writing research papers about the rightness of "pro-choice". When I was 11 I watched my mother bring my baby sister into this world. I witnessed first hand the utter miracle that is birth. When my sister was a day old I was in the hospital room keeping my mom company when the birth certificate worker came by to get the baby's information. I beamed with pride over my new sister as the worker asked routine question about my mother, and her health history. Then the question came. "Have you ever had an abortion?" My mothers answer? "Yes." I felt the blood leave my head. "How many?" "3." I thought I was going to be sick. It was one thing to preach "pro-choice", it was quite another to know you are only here because 3 of your siblings are dead. I wanted to cry. I looked at my sister wondering why she, and I, and my older sister were here. Why did we get to come, but the first 3 didn't? What if they had? Would I not be here? Flash forward 12 years; only 2 months into my marriage, and what do we get? A big fat positive pregnancy test. Wasn't exactly planning that. And for a split second, there was a fleeting thought..."Do I even want this?" I had to stop myself. I was right back in that hospital room with my mom and that feeling of disgust and shock. How could I even think that?! Because when it really sank in, that I was pregnant, I knew without a doubt, that I had a human baby inside me. And not just my human baby, my new husbands too. And when I finally welcomed her into this world (11 days past due!) that was it. Proof. These are people too, humans, not just a clump of cells. If that were the case, then that is all I am too. But until now, I haven't owned this belief. I felt like I was betraying my political party with this conviction. Well guess what, humans, all humans, no matter the size, are worth more to me than a political group.

...I also want to say that I still love my mother and respect her. She has taught me so much, and whether she meant to or not, she taught me to value life. And for that I am grateful."

-Kay Rogers

An Open Letter To Radical Pro-Choice Feminists...

Dear Sir or Madame,

Let’s get something straight; I don’t want anything to do with your uterus… your vagina… or your womb. And honestly, I think you know that.

I think you realize our opposition to abortion has nothing to do with your lady bits, and everything to do with the limb by limb dissection of the child up above said goodies, but you don’t want us to think about that. I mean, who would? So instead you play this little game, where you scrawl catching slogans about your vajay across a sign, and pretend like the only reason we could possibly want to rid the world of abortion is because we are all sexually repressed and disgusted by vaginas or something. Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but that could not be further from the truth. I love sex. I love awesome sex. I have awesome sex. Often. And I sure as hell respect and admire my goods far more than you do, namely because I’ve seen what ALL they are capable of when they work together. I know the power my body holds. I revere it. It can make people with it. No, no, wait, really let that sink in… I. can. make. people. Oh yeah, and I feel I should point out, not with my “VAGINA!!!!” I believe there’s a lower case spelling of that word, but never once have I seen it used by your camp, so I’ll stick with what you know. Don’t get me wrong, my V is a wonderful delicate flower in a beautiful garden and all that other lame stuff our moms told us when we were like ten, but it does not make babies, it’s merely the portal. A super rad portal. So again, “VAGINAS!!!” do. not. make. babies. They’re capable of so much other awesome stuff, I do not know why you keep putting that on them. Because honestly it makes you look kinda dumb. No one is trying to cut off your clitoris, or take away your mind-blowing orgasms. You better believe, it that was the case, I’d be out of the front lines with you, sista.

Likewise, your federal government and mean evil Republicans are not trying to get all up in your womb. We don’t care about your uterus, as shocking as that may be, because as a female pro-lifer I can proudly say I am ALL for women’s reproductive rights! You don’t want to reproduce? Sweet. Don’t, girl. It’s 2013, that’s totally your call. You want to have a litter of kids? Cool, here’s some Mederma. I have no, and I repeat, NO business in your family planning when it comes to how many human lives you will or will not reproduce. Where you’re evidently a little foggy though, is your right to create a life then call take backs. Once a life has been produced, a living human being with its own body, which is now growing and thriving inside yours, you must protect it. Bottom line. That’s your inherent duty for, at the very least, the next 9-months. You are to do everything in your power to guard that human being as it’s mother whether it's part of your 5-year-plan or not. When, however, you decide that person is expendable because they don’t work with what you’ve got going on right now, that is a blatant assault on their human rights, and hell yeah, people will feel compelled to get involved. Child abuse always seems to rile up the crowds, so you cannot act shocked when suddenly we care about what’s happening to the person inside your uterus. Did you catch that? The PERSON INSIDE YOUR UTERUS. Still, don’t really want anything to do with your uterus in a particular, I’m sure it's lovely and all, but that’s just really not my thing.

Let me see if I can explain it another way… If I saw you holding up a sign, oh let’s say in the mid-1800’s reading, “My Plantation, My Choice!” or “Keep The Government Out Of My Slave Trade Practices!” I would say, "Hey Paula Deen, uh-no." Because see, we’d be talking about another human being, I mean, at least in my opinion... which certainly would’ve been unpopular back then. It took society quite some time to fully evolve to the point where slaves were viewed as people just like you and I, and slavery viewed as barbaric because it‘s the ownership of another human being. And man, how much do I wish we would’ve learned from that huge embarrassment in American history that other human beings are not our property. What's that? Other human beings are not our property? Exactly. Yet, here you still are, fighting for the right to snuff out another person’s life just because you can… just because it's legal. Well, a lot of things used to be legal. That doesn’t mean they were right.

That said, you’re not scaring me off by screaming about your “VAGINA!!!” because hopefully as you can see by now, I’m far too comfortable with that word and its namesake. Vaginas are the best, wombs do some of the most amazing things I've ever seen, and your uterus ain’t nobodies business but your own, that is, until it’s used as a place to perpetrate injustice against the human race, then yeah, I’m gonna be up in your business, sorry. If you want us out of your womb, cool. Don’t make it the scene of a crime against humanity, and we’re gone. Trust, there's like a thousand other places I'd rather spend my summer vacay.

Peace,
D.

Time To Take Our Power Back.

Friday Bloody Friday...

We're hearing rumors that those protesting the bill down in Austin today are planning on getting pretty rowdy in hopes of being arrested, so y'all a) be very careful, b) do not engage them, and c) probably should leave the kiddos at home. 

That said, there's one rumor in particular that deserves our full attention for no other reason than it's so bat$#!+ crazy, it will bring a smile to your face this morning. Here's what someone posted:

"Some radicals originally wanted to throw menstrual blood on us Friday. Then too many of them said paint. Luckily they are now down to throwing red glitter wrapped in maxi pads."

Just take a minute and absorb the full awesomeness of that. If you're anything like me, you immediately started picturing the planning sesh/drum circle where this discussion took place.

"Hey y'all, how 'bout this- since they're trying to like ban our vaginas or somethin' down at the capitol, why don't we go throw period blood on them?!" "DUDE, that's such a rad idea! And when I menstruate, I go hard, so I could totally donate, only prob is, my menses aren't due for another two weeks." "Persephone Moonbeam, are you seriously telling me you're not feminist enough to will your goddess cycle into being." "Sorry dude, whenever I try, I just fart." *reluctantly puts period pail away* "Hey wait! Doesn't Rhonda, er, I mean, Lilith Patchouliblossom work at Home Depot? Think she could score us a few gallons of Heavy Flow Red?" "No, she's over at Michael's now, but I bet she can get us some glitter!"

And that kids, is the story of how the Capitol turned into a Ke$ha concert for a day...