the modernity ward

If You Consider Yourself Pro-Life

By which I mean: if you don't agree that abortion should be legal and available at all, ever, under any circumstances.

And yet you don't wish murder upon doctors who provide abortions. You find the likes of Randall Terry repugnant. You are deeply horrified by the murder of Dr. George Tiller. You refuse to use the murder as a cheap pedestal from which to push your own agenda.

Then, people? You need to step the fuck up. Because the evil people have taken over, and they are speaking their malignant speech and rejoicing in murder in your name. You need to shun them and force them out and muzzle the hate-spewers of the media like Limbaugh and O'Reilly.

Say what you want about how you're not like them, and you don't agree with them, but until you contain them and stamp out that part of the movement, until all of you no longer fall under the same umbrella term "pro-lifer," any protestations are meaningless, the distinction difficult to make. If these men don't speak for you, then don't let them.

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On the other hand: If the thought of women using abortion as a consequence-evader for careless sexual behavior disgusts you, if abortion is a choice you would never make for yourself no matter what.

But you think there should be some exceptions made: for rape. For incest. For fetuses who have defects incompatible with life. When the life of the mother is at stake.

Then: you are going to have to work with pro-choice groups. Why? Because abortion is abortion -- and if you want that choice (such as it is) to be available when your daughter is pregnant after being raped, then you will have to make sure there is legal provision for doctors to perform abortions. You will have to ensure that medical students learn how to do the procedure. You will have to make doctors' offices safe places for the people who work there. When you have a dying fetus in your uterus and are fast on your way to dead yourself, you will depend on the justice system to keep the only doctor who can help you from being shot to death as he seats fellow congregants in church.

If you believe that there is any circumstance under which abortion should be permissible, then you bear the responsibility for making it so. Use your vote. Use your money. Use your typing fingers and your voice in the Fellowship Hall and with your neighbors.

Our national polarization regarding abortion is at the forefront once again, a compound fracture with bone shards breaking the skin. Life is full of gray areas, complexity, shades of meaning, but there's not a lot of middle ground here. Barring a life of domestic terrorism, there are two choices. Either you work to make this a country where doctors can perform abortion without fear of constant harassment and death, no matter what circumstances you consider acceptable for seeking abortion -- or you work through legal, civil means to block all access to abortion, and accept that women are going to die as a result.

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A note on comments: comments, agreeing or disagreeing, are welcome. However, anything that veers into hatred, threatening, or anything else scary will not be tolerated, and will be promptly deleted. Also, you may have noticed that I am not arguing about anyone's essential feelings about abortion -- just about actions.

Sunday Mourning

I was just thinking, "Wow, Josh Brolin is in everything these days!" and then I realized that "everything" was two separate previews for Milk and then...Milk.

Milk seemed a fitting movie choice for today. An assassination, really a martyrdom. Dr. George Tiller is dead, shot in a church about a quarter-mile from the house I grew up in, where my father still lives. I'm sickened and sad and furious, not just at Dr. Tiller's murder but at the ugly din coming from anti-abortion ideologues who hate -- who? Women. Some of them are women. It makes me want to get out the battering ram. It makes me sort of homesick for Wichita. I remember when they bombed his clinic, I remember the Operation Rescue Summer of "Love," I remember when they shot him the first time, for God's sake. I want to be with people who understand Wichita right now.

May God be with his family, who must have been expecting this -- but how can you ever prepare yourself? -- and may the cops keep Randall Terry away. May the good people of Wichita form a circle around the Tillers and keep back the evil ones who rejoice in the murder of a doctor who saved women's lives.

Oh, and if anyone is considering posting something in the comments along the lines of "But he MUURRRRDERED all the babies!" consider that I will come through the computer and punch you in the neck. And then I will delete your comment. I'm not in the mood.

The Cool Zone

I decided to take my mind off this whole Swine Flu thing by reading a copy of The Hot Zone I found on the free stuff table in the laundry room. There's nothing like a little Ebola to distract one from things like looming pandemics or, for that matter, the dishes and small children. That book reads like an extended version of my beloved Drama in Real Life or Book Section from the Reader's Digests of yore; my grandmother had an entire closet full of them, dating from 1949 to the 1980s, and I assure you I read every last one of them again and again as a child. I was a twelve-year-old with a working knowledge of dioxin factory accidents and Lassa fever outbreaks, and knew how to spot a dope fiend hepped on PCP, which was totally the next big thing coming to ravage our youth, who by rights ought to be fighting in Vietnam. Oh, and I knew an awful lot about the living conditions of POWs in the aforementioned 'Nam. Regularly did I dose myself with The Best Medicine (it's Laughter, if you were wondering), and I could always find Humor in Uniform.

Sigh. Good times. And now, reading back over that list of favorites, the genesis of several of my neuroses becomes a little clearer. At any rate, I have a good stomach for graphic tales of hemorrhagic fever, and can put away half a dozen cupcakes while reading about black vomit.

But my happy little tale of frothing blood geysers came to an end and I was left to contemplate the news. Here is what does not worry me: 1) the number of deaths in the US attributable to swine flue; 2) number of cases in US; 3) seriousness of disease in US thus far.

Here's what does worry me: the idea of the virus going batshit loco in Mexico City (where at least one strain has been favoring the young and healthy), morphing and recombining into who knows how many strains. Maybe it'll end up relatively harmless (from an epidemiological standpoint) -- bubonic plague is still around, hanging out in a squirrel near you, but it's not so much a problem these days. Or maybe I'll be kicking myself for not having a bug-out bag packed, or three months' worth of food stored. (In our place this would entail replacing chairs and tables with cans and boxes.) I'm not really sure how worried to be. And as a semi-professional know-it-all, that worries me.

Testing, One Two Three. Well, Three, Mostly.

What happens if I run away from Mama and Dada and don't come back when they call? How about if I stick this bean in my ear? Well, howsabout I bang on this door for a while, and then whap my wall with a plastic necklace? Hmm?

Oh. Hmm. I don't like that much at all.

Gosh, I wonder what would happen if I DID EVERYTHING AGAIN EXACTLY THE SAME WAY?

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That, in a nutshell, is where we are right now. Many thanks to Menita for this book, which puts it all in perspective and makes it so, so much easier to deal with (and laugh at, once you recognize it for what it is). I can't recommend it highly enough.

Fortunately she's also testing the good behavior as well as the bad. Thanking Mama for everything? Giving compliments? Spontaneous cleaning? Holding hands on street without being asked?

I make sure that very, very good things happen.

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So in other news, hey, how about that financial mushroom cloud thingy over there on the horizon? No, no, don't look directly at it. The fundamentals of our economy are strong, dammit!

It's making me a little edgy. My mother lost a good chunk of her retirement. I'm wondering what'll be up with the housing market when it's time for us to move (and whether we'll be able to get a mortgage at all!). Thankfully our income is assured barring total zombie apocalypse, but hey, that receding tide beaches all boats. Having a mini-homestead in the city is all well and good, but if the neighbors are starving and steal your chickens, you're screwed as everyone else. Same token, if all government funds are diverted toward financial bailout and quagmire war, well, good luck getting those grants.

Oh well. If we have to live through 1929 again, whatever. It's not like anything bad happened in the 1930s, right?

Sigh.

Barack the LGBT Vote

Wow, that last set of comments was a doozy, no? What fun! Let's deal with it one more time before we move on to a post about how my insurance company questioned my fidelity to my husband.

Comment from marta:

as the white lesbian mom of an african american boy, as a family that has put down roots in an african american neighborhood, as a couple who have spent most of our adult lives working with and for people and children living in poverty, as someone who believes the carnage in iraq is sinful -- i will repeat that for me, personally, it would be sheer lunacy to vote against obama on a single issue on which he actually has such a strong record. and on behalf of the individuals i love and the communities i care about who don't have the luxury of making this their single issue, i continue to be offended by single issue voting.

I repost because I think marta's words are valuable. I know her personally, and I can tell you that she is one of those rare folks who actually walk their talk.

Okay, next, from the Obama campaign:

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

After aggressive contests in all 50 states, the Democratic Primary has come to an end. If we are to elect Barack Obama president in November, as a community, it's important that we come together.

With the unified and enthusiastic support of LGBT Americans, our chance of success is much greater. That's why we need your help to take the next step in supporting Barack.

Tomorrow, Friday, June 6th, at 6:00 p.m. Eastern time, our campaign is hosting a national call for LGBT Americans who are interested in helping Barack.

On this call, we will give a status report of our campaign as a whole, discuss LGBT policy, provide suggestions for how you can be involved and answer questions and hear your concerns.

National LGBT Conference Call
Friday, June 6th, 2008
6:00 p.m. EDT

RSVP for the conference call:

http://pride.barackobama.com/LGBTcall

As a gay American, I couldn't be more proud to work for Barack Obama. I believe in my heart that he will be a great president with the best judgment to lead our nation. He is a friend and will fight for justice and equality, standing up for our individual rights.

The stakes in this election are very high. A nation led by Barack Obama will stand in stark contrast to that of his opponent.

Please forward this email to others who may be interested in joining the call. If the timing of the call does not work for you, we will schedule another one in the near future.

Join us on the call and learn more about our LGBT program:

http://pride.barackobama.com/LGBTcall

I hope you will get involved and join us on Friday.

Thanks,

Steve

Steve Hildebrand
Deputy Campaign Manager
Obama for America

P.S. -- We've pulled together a few resources for you to learn more about Barack and LGBT issues.

Learn more:

http://pride.barackobama.com/LGBTcall

Happy! And, Offended!

Today is our eighth anniversary. Eight years ago this morning, I was waking up in my mother's house and preparing to fight my entire family for a chance in the shower; we were trying to figure out how to fit our wedding guests for the outdoor affair into the small museum, because it was not only raining but chilly; and I had not one qualm about what we were about to do.

Since then my qualmlessness has been reinforced a thousandfold, because seriously, it just gets better and better and better. Cheers to you, my eternally menschy husband. May we have another sixty-some chances to completely neglect to do anything by way of celebrating our anniversary.

Also, today I am ten weeks pregnant. Nothing bad blah blah. It still feels completely imaginary. If you have a Doppler and would like to try it out on me, I will make you banana bread.

So the best anniversary present of all was Obama clinching the nomination. Huzzah, I say, and 'bout damn time, and YAAAAAAY!  This editorial in the Philadelphia Crapquirer put a damper on my joy, though.

"How Obama's campaign has treated Hillary will not be forgotten," Janet Rogers, 55, who runs a bed-and-breakfast in Medina, Ohio, wrote me. "I will vote for McCain if Hillary is not the nominee. My husband and friends all feel the same way."

Listen, lady. I'm going to say this once. If you vote for McCain, and that crazy asshole wins, I just hope your daughter doesn't die of a backalley abortion. I hope your son doesn't get drafted for a war in Iran. I hope your husband doesn't have a stroke from particulate air pollution. I hope your B&B doesn't go broke in a depression. Good fucking luck with all of it.

Obama's campaign and Obama's supporters are not the same thing. The campaign, the official thing that Obama has control over, has been nothing but respectful, has played fair while Clinton sank to race-baiting and unpleasant innuendos. Some of Obama's supporters are vile sexist rectumheads who deserve chemical castration and a punch in the kidney, but Obama does not control these people. Any more than Clinton controls the cowardly, murderous racists who threatened Obama in West Virginia.

So, gals. Why don't you go ahead and prove some stereotype about women being unable to separate emotion from rational thought? Why don't you whine that your party has taken you for granted just because your candidate didn't get the votes to win? Why don't you sacrifice everything you purported to care about just because things didn't go exactly the way you wanted?

Don't defile feminism by trying to squeeze under that umbrella, because I will push you right out into the pouring rain.