There Are No Words, But Terrible Found Some

Several friends of Joanna (our own Anntichrist S. Coulter) wrote to tell me that her beloved niece Jada has passed away at the age of 4.  I don't know how this month could get any worse, and I don't want to know.  Joanna is without internet at the moment -- I don't know if her appeal failed, and she's been evicted, or if it's a computer problem -- but I figured you guys would want to know.  And if she's able to borrow a connection and make it over here, I want her to know that we're thinking of her.

The obituary that appeared in the Times-Picayune is below.  Click to enlarge to a more readable size.

I don't know what to say, so I'm just going to quote Terrible's brief, but eloquent words at Mark of the Beast:

Those of us who know Annti know how much she cared about Jada and how she felt about her never having a chance for a wonderful happy life. And our hearts and thoughts go out to her. If there is a souls journey after death may Jada’s soul have that childhood she never had the chance for here.

Happy Birthday Bill S! and The Minx!

I apologize, once again, for the spotty posting.  Real life (which is to say, meager, but paying work) has intervened, but I couldn't let this auspicious day go by without noting that it is the birthdate of our friend Bill S. (legally known for the duration of his natal anniversary as Bill S!), and the delightful, the delovely, the Minx.

For his special, non-Ann Coulter photograph, Mr. S! sent me the following message:

If you decide to acknowledge my birthday over at World o' Crap Thursday, I humbly request you post Matthew Bomer, Scott Caan, or the Ryan of your choice Cabrera? Gosling? Kwanten? McPartlin? Phillipe? Reynolds? When did "Ryan" become the go-to name anyway? O'Neal was the only hot Ryan 40 year ago (I may be the only person I know who still enjoys Love Story unironically)...now, of course, he's a sad, drug-addled, creepy old man who couldn't recognize his own daughter and hit on her...at the funeral of his common-law wife. So, not THAT Ryan.

 Hint taken, Bill.  I'm putting my extensive collection of production stills from Irreconcilable Differences and Tough Guys Don't Dance on hold, out of respect for the memory of your severed umbilical cord, and instead, I'm going with a Random Ryan.  And the wheel of fortune turns up...McPartlin!

I was sad that I had no shoes, until I met a man who had no shirt, and then I was really depressed, because he was a homeless bum living in an alley, and he still had an awesome six pack.

Fortunately, The Minx is also gay, so we get to mix 'n' match the sexes for this dual birthday celebration.  She didn't express a preference, so I defaulted to Classic Hollywood Cheesecake:

In this case, Lauren Bacall, because really, how can you go wrong?

So there you go:  saucy, Ann Coulterless eye candy to tempt even those whose eyes are on a diet.  Please join me in wishing a very happy birthday to The Minx and The Bill S!

Update from Maryc! It wouldn't be a Bill S! birthday without a little Nathan lovin' goin on.  I present you with your birthday moment of Nathan Fillion zen:

Robin of Berkeley Solves the Andrew Breitbart Murder!

I've been remiss lately in following the adventures of former licensed therapist Robin of Berkeley, largely because even American Thinker seems to have edged slowly away from her, smiling and nodding and fingering the tiny pepper spray canister attached to their keyring.  But RoB maintains a blog, and our buddy Chris Vosburg -- engineer, musician, fancier of fine, if defunct, Dutch rock bands, and Perry Mason connoisseur par excellence -- who has corresponded with the analrapist emeritus, recently checked in and discovered that she's used her therapeutic skills to unravel the mystery of Andrew Breitbart's death.  The culprit?  It was Liberals.  In the suburb.  With an earthquake.  Or as Chris put it:

...in which Robin of Bedlam endures the fury of a mighty 4.0 earthquake, and shares a babbling series of free associations.

Needless to say, no property damage occurred, nor injuries reported. It becomes a little harder to believe that Robin has been in California for any length of time, because, as a native, as are you, I don’t get outta bed for anything less than a six.

So, using the insights gleaned from 20 years of giving UC Berkeley students unhelpful, and increasingly unethical advice, what can Robin deduce from a feeble temblor about the true cause of Andrew Breitbart's demise?

An Act of God?

I’m not the world’s best sleeper, so I was awake Monday morning at 5:30 am when the rumbling began. If you’ve never experienced it before, it’s the creepiest of feelings, worse than the earthquake itself. There’s this nameless dread, this foreboding, as though something threatening is going to happen, but you don’t know what.

I grew up in California, so I've been awakened by plenty of earthquakes, and while there's occasionally "dread," it's seldom "nameless," in that the threatening thing that we don't know is going to happen is -- if it's woken you up -- already happening, and we call it "an earthquake."

After the quake, I lay in bed, my heart racing. I thought of how thousands of people were sharing in the experience; they were all jarred awake too, with their hearts racing and adrenaline surging.

But it's preferable to being awakened by surging Santorum, because then you've got to change the sheets.

It’s not just the trembling itself that’s disturbing; it’s the reminder. It’s the tangible proof that frightening things can and will happen without warning in the day or in the middle of the night.

Fortunately, reality TV is there to fill in the gaps between natural disasters.

Earthquakes are “Acts of God,” according to the vernacular of insurance policies. In the Midwest, where earthquakes are rare, people have been stricken by massive floods. Although God has been banished from schools and public buildings, floods and earthquakes remind us that He is omnipresent.

We used to have earthquake drills in school all the time.  The details are a little fuzzy after all these years (I mostly remember being impressed by how much fossilized Juicyfruit was stuck to the bottom of my desk) but I assume the teachers told us we were preparing for "Acts of Madalyn Murray O'Hair."

I heard a pastor once say that when God reveals Himself to you, it precipitates a state of shock. And this shock is not like anything you’ve ever experienced in your life.

Unless you've ever touched a screen door on a windy day.

When you feel God around you, when you understand His reality, it is an exhilarating, liberating, and, yes, shocking experience. Like the rumbling before an earthquake, it produces a feeling in you that has no words, one that cannot be understood with your rational mind. You are standing naked before a Force greater than anything you can ever imagine. And when you recognize what God can do, it is absolutely shocking.

So at least wear underpants to bed, or you're going to have a very awkward moment when the rescue workers dig you out of the rubble.

But there’s another shock too . . . and that’s when you confront the darkest side of the spirit world. When you come in contact with evil, it’s shocking in a very different way.

The evil could be viewing the most disgusting forms of pornography

...which is why it's always a good idea to knock before entering evil's bedroom.

...and I’m not just talking about viewing hard-core porn online. I’m referring to stuff Planned Parenthood foists on innocent children; or the shock of hearing the smutty, degrading names for conservatives, as in “tea baggers.”

 "How dare you call me a tea bagger?!"

 "Exactly!  It's disgusting!  Call me by my preferred name...Tea bag dangling ball capper!"

Simply surfing the Web these days, you’ll see the most reprehensible, unconscionable, and, yes, evil and shocking stuff that you could imagine — or never imagine.

Here, Robin, maybe this will help...

All around us, there are acts of God and there are acts of evil.

So a picture of naked boobs is an act of evil, but an earthquake is an act of God?  I somehow suspect that Japan -- if given the option -- would have preferred that their Fukushima Dai-ichi nuclear power plant be hit by a copy of Juggs magazine.

 If you’ve felt the awe of watching a baby born

 You know how moving it can be, right up until the moment the parents and doctor ask, "Who are you, and what the hell are you doing in the delivery room?"

...you know the majesty that is God. If you’ve been a victim of a violent crime, you recognize that evil exists, and that it too is shocking, but in the most disturbing of ways.

Maybe it's luck, but I've spent most of my life in the two biggest cities in the country, and yet I've never been mugged by porn.

This is a circuitous way of moving on to my main topic, of a news event that I found utterly shocking. It was the announcement of the death of Andrew Breitbart, at age 43. Andrew Breitbart, for God’s sake!

The last person you'd ever expect to drop dead was the husky, drunken rage monkey who was last seen being dragged away from a group of puzzled protestors while hoarsely shrieking, "Stop raping people!"

 Unlike Rush or Hannity, Breitbart didn’t just report on and analyze the news. He made it.

Out of the same stuff most manufacturers use to make nitrate-rich fertilizer.

 He was one of the main people to bring down Acorn, and he had a huge hand in exposing “Farmgate.”

Mr. McGregor's midnight visits to Peter's hutch would not go unavenged!

Breitbart apparently had the goods on Obama: Breitbart had announced that he possessed secret tapes about Obama and his connection to revolutionaries. Then Breitbart suddenly died. This is the stuff of suspense thrillers, if it weren’t so horribly real.

If it were just horrible, it would be the stuff of Tom Clancy suspense thrillers.

Was Breitbart’s death an Act of God? Or was it an act from the polar opposite realm?

Breitbart was snuffed by Santa!

I don’t know. I have no inside information. However, I no longer believe everything that authorities tell me.

For instance, this letter from the California Board of Behavioral Sciences revoking Robin's license in Marriage and Family Therapy is clearly a tissue of complex, Illuminati-inspired lies!

The LA Coroner’s office performed the autopsy — they of Michael Jackson, Whitney Houston, and Nicole Simpson fame.

Which you can't trust, because apparently all those people are still secretly alive.

Apparently, the office quickly determined that Breitbart died of “natural causes,” that is, a heart problem. Interesting they knew that so quickly, while Houston’s autopsy took a week or so.

I like to think her bloodstream was more interesting.

Certainly, there are 40-something men who suddenly drop dead. I’ve known of a couple of people– however, they were involved in intense athletics at the time. 

Finally, we've discovered Robin's true identity.  She was Nelson Rockefeller's  secretary!

But I haven’t heard of too many people simply walking home from a night on the town who keel over and die.

Reading the headlines at Townhall and Pajamas Media, one can only hope that Breitbart, as he so often did in the past, will prove a trendsetter.

And how weird is it that he supposedly went out to a bar drinking

Have you ever seen video of Breitbart, Robin?  Because this is the least weird part of the story.

...and then embarked on a leisurely stroll around LA around midnight. Oh — and then he suddenly died.

It surely could have happened. But it surely could not have as well.

Maybe both happened at once, as I prove in my monograph, Schrödinger's Asshole.

 In either case, the news is shocking to me; it reminds me of that creepy rumbling I’ve experienced one too many times since moving out here, that seizes you with an awful fright. You know something bad is going to happen, but you don’t know what.

From now on, whenever there's an earthquake, my first thought will be, "either my Hummel collection is in peril, or Tucker Carlson just dropped splay-legged to the floor like a poleaxed steer."

Breitbart’s death could have well been an Act of God. Or it could have been an act of evil. The left’s delicious delight at his demise is certainly devilish in and of itself.

So Breitbart was either killed by God, or Vivid Video, and the only way to find out the truth is to wait and see which one Perry Mason takes on as a client.

Random Scenes of the Old Home Town

Newport Bay from Balboa Island.

It's Probably Something You Effemin-ate.

By Keith:

Hello. Today we have a lecture on a subject that is dear to everyone – nutrition. And none other than World Net Daily columnist Jim Rutz is here to explain why America is going, well, “sooo, so gay.” 

Jim Rutz, "chairman of Megashift Ministries" and a man who knows that while a suede jacket is nice,  a suede jacket dripping with fringe is fabulous!

SOY IS MAKING KIDS 'GAY'

There’s a madness to Rutz’s method. I hope you will enjoy it.

There’s a slow poison out there that’s severely damaging our children and threatening to tear apart our culture. The ironic part is, it’s a “health food,” one of our most popular.

Hmm, let’s see, could it be McNuggets? KFC bucket? Reveal to us more, Jim.

Now, I’m a health-food guy, a fanatic who seldom allows anything into his kitchen unless it’s organic. I state my bias here just so you’ll know I’m not anti-health food.

Well with food, even staples, rising in price I can’t always afford a free-range chicken. But agree, I seldom allow anything that isn’t organic into my kitchen. Even the toaster is made from disposable diapers rescued from Fresh Kills (and it’s a Cuisinart).

We don’t have roaches anymore, but when we did, they were organic as well.

The dangerous food I’m speaking of is soy. Soybean products are feminizing, and they’re all over the place. You can hardly escape them anymore.”

Tell me all about it Jimmy. On my last trip to “Trader Joe’s” I was attacked by a dozen very sexy-looking packages of tofu, although their makeup was smeared. I had to fight them off with broccoli spears. Turns out the poor things were lacking in moisture and only wanted beer which the general manager kindly provided.

I have nothing against an occasional soy snack. Soy is nutritious and contains lots of good things. Unfortunately, when you eat or drink a lot of soy stuff, you’re also getting substantial quantities of estrogens.

Estrogens are female hormones. If you’re a woman, you’re flooding your system with a substance it can’t handle in surplus. If you’re a man, you’re suppressing your masculinity and stimulating your “female side,” physically and mentally.

Thanks, Jim. But estrogens don’t exist entirely in the domain of the ladies, anymore than testosterone is solely confined to us guys. It’s just that the gals don’t usually behave, or write, like wanking ‘tards.

It’s like those things that poke out of your tee-shirts, Jim, you know, nipples. And if you ever bothered to “go downtown” on your loved one you might discover more ... but we digress.

In fetal development, the default is being female. All humans (even in old age) tend toward femininity. The main thing that keeps men from diverging into the female pattern is testosterone, and testosterone is suppressed by an excess of estrogen.

If you’re a grownup, you’re already developed, and you’re able to fight off some of the damaging effects of soy. Babies aren’t so fortunate. Research is now showing that when you feed your baby soy formula, you’re giving him or her the equivalent of five birth control pills a day. A baby’s endocrine system just can’t cope with that kind of massive assault, so some damage is inevitable. “At the extreme, the damage can be fatal.

Ok, Jim. I’ve learned something here. I didn’t know that blastocysts preferred the female sex. Always thought it was a biological contingency ... you know, a gestation thingy. Seems sex selection is random enough.

And will someone out there please lead me to understand the phrase “female pattern?” I tried googling but all I got were sites dealing with paper dress designs, some lovely by the way, for those who possess the art of tailoring.

Soy is feminizing, and commonly leads to a decrease in the size of the penis, sexual confusion and homosexuality. That’s why most of the medical (not socio-spiritual) blame for today’s rise in homosexuality must fall upon the rise in soy formula and other soy products. (Most babies are bottle-fed during some part of their infancy, and one-fourth of them are getting soy milk!) Homosexuals often argue that their homosexuality is inborn because “I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t homosexual.” No, homosexuality is always deviant. But now many of them can truthfully say that they can’t remember a time when excess estrogen wasn’t influencing them.

OK. I get it. It’s all Aunt Mary’s fault. She was an ardent Seventh-Day Adventist and always fed me and my brother those soy faux-hamburgers that came in a can from Loma Linda. Aunt Mary. You made me what I am today.

Doctors used to hope soy would reduce hot flashes, prevent cancer and heart disease, and save millions in the Third World from starvation. That was before they knew much about long-term soy use. Now we know it’s a classic example of a cure that’s worse than the disease. For example, if your baby gets colic from cow’s milk, do you switch him to soy milk? Don’t even think about it. His phytoestrogen level will jump to 20 times normal. If he is a she, brace yourself for watching her reach menarche as young as seven, robbing her of years of childhood. If he is a boy, it’s far worse: He may not reach puberty till much later than normal.

Oh, lord, where is the damn Merck Manual when it’s needed the most?

Research in 2000 showed that a soy-based diet at any age can lead to a weak thyroid, which commonly produces heart problems and excess fat. Could this explain the dramatic increase in obesity today?

Recent research on rats shows testicular atrophy, infertility and uterus hypertrophy (enlargement). This helps explain the infertility epidemic and the sudden growth in fertility clinics. But alas, by the time a soy-damaged infant has grown to adulthood and wants to marry, it’s too late to get fixed by a fertility clinic.

Well, Jim, we’re getting to know you in an intimate fashion. You have a little, itty-bitty penis shaped like that of a rat. Also mate selection is difficult because it’s awkward for your companion to pick that poor pecker out with tweezers, much less get it past the aspirin she’s holding between her knees. And I’ll bet you’re so cheap you won’t even take her to a nice restaurant after all her trouble.

And just, dear readers, when you thought things couldn’t get worse ...

Worse, there’s now scientific evidence that estrogen ingredients in soy products may be boosting the rapidly rising incidence of leukemia in children. In the latest year we have numbers for, new cases in the U.S. jumped 27 percent. In one year!

There’s also a serious connection between soy and cancer in adults – especially breast cancer. That’s why the governments of Israel, the UK, France and New Zealand are already cracking down hard on soy.

(I have a friend who lost his son to childhood leukemia so I’m just going to pass on this one.)

In sad contrast, 60 percent of the refined foods in U.S. supermarkets now contain soy. Worse, soy use may double in the next few years because (last I heard) the out-of-touch medicrats in the FDA hierarchy are considering allowing manufacturers of cereal, energy bars, fake milk, fake yogurt, etc., to claim that “soy prevents cancer.” It doesn’t.

Well then. What have we to learn from this unexpected editorial comment on the evil of soy? My first experience with soy, apart from Aunt Mary’s Loma Linda burgers (which were very tasty, as I remember) was driving a friend’s 1967 Corvette very fast late at night in rural Virginia and missing a left turn. That missed turn took us through a huge soybean plantation ... and for the rest of the weekend we worked hard in the garage ‘round the clock to pick those damn soybeans out of the chassis.

But Jim, just because I have known soy, and have had accidents with soy, I don’t remember my penis size decreasing as a result. It’s still about the same size it was back in the day although it now has a small mole (which my doctor says is just fine).

But Jim still gets the last word. Sometimes fermentation absolves all.

P.S.: Soy sauce is fine. Unlike soy milk, it’s perfectly safe because it’s fermented, which changes its molecular structure. Miso, natto and tempeh are also OK, but avoid tofu.

[Scott here, with a little mnemonic device to help you fellas avoid unwanted estrogen.  "Remember: Soy Sauce is Boy Sauce, but Tofu is Too Fey."]

Behold, a Pale Horse! And Its Rider's Name was Swank

Well, the Internet seemed to be tying itself in knots over Andrew Breitbart's abrupt exit all day, while the world outside my computer seemed as blissfully ignorant of his death as it was of his existence.  I don't really have much to add to the retrospective; in fact, I woke up with a bad headache and didn't even turn on the Mac until after lunch, so I wasn't aware Mr. Big (Fill in the Blank URL) had smeared his last smear until I got an email from Keith, to which I replied, "For those who believe in a Better World, they can take comfort in the knowledge that Breitbart's body has now been reunited with his soul, which predeceased him by several decades."  (And I'll apologize for that just as soon as Breitbart retracts his statement that the still-cooling corpse of Ted Kennedy was "a prick.")

Anyway, the conspiracy theories are just getting started, so if you weren't sick of Breitbart and his act before, you'll still have plenty of time to catch up (it's not like deciding suddenly to start watching Lost midway through the fourth season).  Personally, though, I'm not in the mood, so I'm giving most of my go-to wingnut sites a wide berth tonight.  But then the thought occurred to me:  "You know what?  We really need some Pastor Swank up in this bitch."

Criminal Jesus? : 'They Hate Me. They Will Hate You Too!'

Sometimes I wonder if the world considers Jesus the Criminal of All Time.

Yes, probably because of that sign over the cross ("INRI," as we all learned in Sunday School, being the Latin abbreviation for "Thug Life").

You'd think so. The way that some rail against Him, His teachings, His church, you'd think that Jesus was one of the most ardent con artists of all time.

No, you're thinking of St. Paul, whose "Letter to the Corinthians" was the Nigerian email scam of its day.

Jesus is hauled off of public property. There He is but a Baby in a manger setting.

Do you have any idea how many harmful parasites and bacteria can thrive in donkey and goat dung?  It's no wonder somebody called Child Protective Services and had that kid hauled out of there -- even if he was plastic.  (Full disclosure:  When I was a child, our family had a very elaborate Nativity Scene that I would help my father assemble each Christmas, until we moved to an exurban area and had to give it up because the placenta was attracting wolves.

Yet He's flung across the lot into some warehouse or dumpster for His very presence is "offensive." So there go Mary and Joseph as well. And the angels to boot.

Is Jesus that outrageously awful? What crime did He commit?

Certainly not Littering.

 What terrible deed did He set upon humanity by which, two thousand years later, He's scorned, lifted up as a Madman and then derailed from political life, government property and the marketplace. 

I didn't realize Jesus was planning to run for public office, but it seems like the time is ripe.  In years past, the Press Corps might have demanded he explain his relationship with Mary Magdalene, but in the post-David Vitter GOP, consorting with prostitutes seems to be a vote-getter.

Santa can stay. Elves can play around. Frosty can scamper. But Jesus has to go. 

Apparently because he refused to frolic.

The culture has a hatred settled in maximum when it comes to Jesus.

I hate when that happens, but I keep my hatred settled in minimum to keep winter fuel bills down.

But when I read about Him in the historic records - Matthew, Mark, Luke and John

Your standards of historiography are high, Pastor, but let's not forget Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal, which is even more historical, because it includes the Apostle Spider-Man.

 - I don't come upon a distasteful personality. 

Which is unusual for scripture.  For instance, Zoroaster spends a good 70% of the Yasna Haptanghaiti calling Ahura Mazda "bossy" and "kind of an asshole."

It's this Jesus who drives straight the discrimination against women by speaking to a Samaritan woman - one considered a half-breed by the culture. He not only speaks with her but offers hope of forgiveness and new life in grace. 

Unfortunately, it's Nancy Grace.

It's this Jesus who reaches out to the lepters - the scum of society of the first cenutry rule.

Lepters were first created in the First Century A.D., when the Large Hadron Collider (then located in Rome, and made of terra cotta) accelerated a lepton into a high energy leper.

It's this Jesus who then climbs upon a Roman cross, permitting soldiers to drive spikes into His flesh. He, having committed no wrong, no crime, broken no law, hangs between the skies till He dies. 

It's too bad Bill O'Reilly wasn't at the Crucifixion, because then he could have shot Jesus right between the head and put him out of his misery.

Having no money for His own burial plot, He's placed in a borrowed gravesite. 

The owner was a little leery, because Christ never brought back that Garden Weasel he borrowed, but amazingly, he promptly returned the plot three days later.

And for His thirty-three years of caring for people, loving the lvoeless and pointing folk to heaven, He's still screamed at, strewn across history's pages as a maniacal religious zealot, and then hacked to pieces in one court room after another. 

I always thought that Bailiff from Night Court looked a little unstable.

The ACLU breathes daily to crucify Jesus afresh.

I'm not exactly sure what this sentence is supposed to mean, but I think the ACLU is endorsing Mentos.

 So some school personnel - from superintends to classroom teachers to custodians and bus drivers. And those who don't are in fear of losing their positions if they speak out in defense of Jesus.

I remember when I got called into the superintends' officedent.  It was so.

There are town clerks who wake up in the morning just to see if any Jesus follower comes into the office with the attempt to display a Nativity School in fonrt of town hall. If the request commes to the desk, the inquirer's knuckles are wrapped and the posterior is pointed to the town hall's exit sign. 

So if you want a permit to display a Nativity School in fonrt of town hall, just be aware that they'll make you wrap your knuckles and box the city clerk.  And if you lose, you get sodomized by the signage.

Why?

You tell me.

What did Jesus do to the ACLU? What did Jesus do to harm town hall or the school district or the mall? What did Jesus do to hurt society and destroy culture? What, in God's name, did Jesus do to deserve such hatred?

Wait, so now the mall hates Jesus?  That's a little hypocritical, considering how much money they make off him every year, although I can certainly see why the Fed-Ex delivery guy hates him.

Yet, Jesus, knowing the desperate damage done to the moral's soul in The Fall, forecast that He would be despised. He would be hated of all men. And those who pikced up His cross dailyi, following in His bloody footsteps, would be despised as well. They would be hated.

Well, they did track blood all over the carpet.

So today those who attempt to sing about the redemption of Jesus' blood in a Unitarian Church are told to worship someplace else.

The same thing happened to me when I tried to sacrifice a ram.  Unitarians got a stick up their ass.

Those who speak of Jesus in a public classroom, or, God forbid, try to sing a Christian Christmas carol in a school program, are marched to the courts.

Largely because the courts are better funded than the schools in this country, so the kids get a more comprehensive education there.  You probably remember this phenomenon from the end of every Dragnet episode ("On March 2nd, a science class was held in Superior Court, in and for the County of Los Angeles.  In a moment, the results of that class."  [Spoiler alert: the District Attorney stuck toothpicks in a potato and suspended it in a glass of water to prove it would sprout roots.])

So the Christians persist against the secularists - the ACLU, godless school principals and unbelieving teachers, apostate clergy in various denominating, and those who masquerade as do-gooders for society who all the while work to crush religious freedom, Christian witness, and the due rights of believers to tell the old, old story of the cross.

So I think what the Pastor is trying to say here is, if your story is stale, try Mentos.  It's the Freshmaker.

Why Must They Laugh at My Mighty Wand?

National Review Online editor Kathryn Jean Lopez is furious!  Her boyfriends, the Virginia General Assembly, were this close to passing their Chick on a Stick law, but it was snatched away at the last moment by opponents armed with "humor," which according to Kathryn Jean's reading of the rulebook constitutes illegal use of a foreign object.

Jests Mask a More Sinister Agenda

Medieval Fool attired in traditional Pro-Choice Motley.

There's no doubt that Planned Parenthood and its supporters had a brilliant strategy: Get as many people as possible to repeat the word "transvaginal" in news and commentary stories, and accomplish two things: Defeat legislation at hand and make your opposition look like a freak show.  

I'd think the mere fact of the Virginia State government decreeing that a patient be forced to pay for her abortion not merely in specie but in pain and humiliation was enough to bring them into ill repute, but no; apparently "transvaginal" is a magic word, and like "Avada kedavra!" it killed the Virginia Vaginal Invasion Act of 2012.  (Full disclosure:  like a lot of liberals, I have been saying "transvaginal" a lot lately, but I want to assure K-Lo that it's not because I'm trying to discredit the policy goal of shoving an imaging device into every pregnant woman and turning her uterus into an episode of "Big Brother," but only because it just happens to be my safe word).

That's what just played out with a bill in Virginia that would have required women considering having an abortion to get a sonogram first.

From a Washington Post piece about a protest against the bill:

"Molly Vick of Richmond said it was her first time to take part in a protest, but the issue was too infuriating and compelling."

What's infuriating is that we can't have an honest debate about anything that involves women, because it might make Planned Parenthood or any of the political or business wings of the abortion industry uncomfortable.

Modern feminists are such easily distracted crybabies that they can't even carry on a civil discussion about which of their civil rights to give up while Virginia Governor Bob McDonnell is transfixing them with a bollard.  And let's face it, Kathryn Jean does have a point.  After all, stabbing an abortion patient with a Sonogram Shiv isn't fatal, it's not like they're getting pierced by bullets.  That kind of thing is strictly reserved for abortion providers.

This is the new feminist America, and it's just as delusional and duplicitous at the first round.

As we now know, The Feminine Mystique was an elaborate literary hoax, like Robinson Crusoe, or The O'Reilly Factor for Kids.

It's not happening at anti-establishment protests, it is the establishment.

Fundamentalist Catholics like K-Lo and Rick Santorum are the new Hippies, and are out to bring down the Man -- well, the Woman -- with powerful counter-culture events, like a conservative Woodstock, in which clean cut men and women would have fruitful, p-in-v intercourse in a muddy field while Hank Williams, Jr. musically inquired if they had made the proper preparations for football, and the organizers got on the loudspeaker periodically to warn the pregnant women in the audience not to take the brown folic acid.  They were also going to have a March on Washington, but it's hard to cover a lot of ground quickly with an aspirin held between your knees, so they're going to save that event for the Summer of Abstinence picnic.

Even "Saturday Night Live" got into the frenzy, mocking the bill and the term of the moment in a recent sketch.

Really?  Even Saturday Night Live stooped to cheapshot satire?  I'll never look at public affairs programming the same way again.

If only the sponsors of this legislation had foreseen the crippling comic effects of the word "transvaginal," and had pre-empted it with a less risible term.  They might have referred to the device in question as the Twat Twizzler, or -- as Mary calls it -- the Vag-O-Matic.  Other possibilities include "the Elder Wand," "the Pols' Pole," or "the Staff of the National Review."

Go ahead and read the bill that caused the cries of "state-mandated rape." The word "transvaginal" never appears in it.

To meet the demands of the proposed law, a transvaginal ultrasound is required, but the authors never actually come right out and say it in so many words.  So basically, the bill talks in vague, but menacing euphemisms, like a villain from a 1970s detective show ("I want this Rockford situation taken care of...permanently!").

The bill was an update on Virginia's informed-consent law

Otherwise known as the "Orwell?  Never Heard of Him" Act.

...which didn't require a particular kind of ultrasound, such as the intrusive procedure that drew mockery and outrage from the left. So doctors on site would be making the calls about what kind of ultrasound would be best for a particular women -- not the governor or the House of Delegates or the legendary exorcist Rick Santorum!

I wonder if these are the same doctors who pointed out that the only way to get the kind of image the bill required was to shish kabob the patient.  I also wonder if K-Lo feels obliged to list the lies she tells in her various columns when she goes to confession, or if she's wangled some sort of Papal dispensation that permits her to freely fib for Christ.

 And, frankly, even if the bill did mandate an invasive type ultrasound -- sometimes the age of the fetus or other circumstances will call for it --it wouldn't have been state-sponsored rape.

The woman would have had to pay for it, so it would only have been state-inflicted rape.

It's standard medical care. All things in the OB-GYN world tend to be invasive. Are routine exams rape, too? Can we just drop the nonsense already?

Kathryn Jean, are you really incapable of grasping the concept of consent?   That's like saying there's no difference between an appendectomy and getting shanked in an alley.  Yes, they both involve knives, but in the former case they won't actually cut you unless you sign the form.

I guess not. Not when those who resort to the most shameless rhetoric end up winning.

You seem depressed.  Unfortunately, your home state has just passed a law mandating that patients suspected of clinical depression be trepanned to allow the demons to escape their skulls.  Have a seat.

Moondoggie would like to remind you to (if possible) please give to the Annti Evict-O-Thon (at least, I think that's what that gesture means).  Details in the post below.