Tag Archives: Abortion

We Choose to Save

“In the face of those who would visit death upon innocents, we will choose to save and to comfort and to heal.” Barack H. Obama, President of the United States of America, at the Cathedral of the Holy Cross, Boston, MA, April 17, 2013

On September 5, 1935 the Laws for the Protection of German Blood and German Honour, the Nuremburg Laws, became the law of the land in Germany.  The effect of the passage of these laws was to make Jews, Gypsies, and a number of other racial or ethnic groups added later administratively to the original two, un-persons who really had no rights.  They paved the way for the death camps that followed only a few years later.

In her book “Eichmann In Israel”, which carries the subtitle “A Report on the Banality of Evil”, Hannah Arendt devotes some small part of her time explaining how the Nazis got the Jewish people to cooperate in their extermination.  One reads the sections so devoted with a sense of incredulity only “looking back” can give.  There actually were some Jews who believed they were better off living as a people apart in the middle of the rest of the Reich.  Jews had been treated as second class citizens since January 1933 when Hitler beacme Chancellor of Germany.  From April to October, laws barring Jews from holding positions in the civil service, in legal and medical professions, and in teaching and university positions were pushed through. Boycotts of Jewish-owned shops and businesses and book burnings of writings by Jews and by others not approved by the Reich took place.

While Nazi antisemitic legislation and propaganda against “Non-Aryans” was a thinly disguised attack against anyone who had Jewish parents or grandparents, still there was a certain haphazard and uneveness to it all . Arendt writes about the growing awareness that more organization, tighter control was needed.  Things needed to be tightened up.  All of the many laws and regulations about race, racial purity, inferior types and racial protection, and the various agencies regulating such things needed to be consolidated.  Soon enough, it happened.

Arendt writes that after the Nuremberg Laws were issued in 1935, and Jews had been stripped of political but not civil rights, the situation was felt to have been stabilized.

Now, at least they knew what the situation was, Arendt explains.  There had long been Jewish organizations, civic clubs and fraternal groups, and a thing called a Reichsvertretung, an umbrella group of all the Jewish organizations in Germany, which had not been ordered int0 existence by the Nazis.  They set about accommodating the Jews to the “facts on the ground.”   Even as a second class citizens, one could be quite comfortable in Germany.  That was the feeling.  When the Nazis began to force Jews to emigrate, these organizations and their members willingly cooperated in the program and the policy.  They “generally believed that a modus vivendi would be possible; they even offered to cooperate in the ‘solution of the Jewish question’.”

Arendt goes on to say with no little irony, I think, that when Eichmann became the center of that “solution” Jewish leaders of all kinds, “assimilationists” and Zionists alike, talked “in terms of a great ‘Jewish revival’ and a great constructive movement in German Jewry.”  There were, she says, “still quarrels among themselves in ideological terms about the desirability of Jewish emigration.”  She concludes this sentence ominously by adding a short phrase: “as though this depended on their own decisions.” (Arendt, “Eichmann in Jerusalem”, Viking Press, 1967, p. 40)

We know that very soon these same Jewish leaders were fully cooperating with their Nazi masters in the murder of millions; assembling them by the trains and preparing them for death.

On Januray 22, 1973, the US Supreme Court decided Roe v. Wade and announced their decision to the nation.  Its effect was to declare the unborn child in its mother’s womb to be not a person, with no rights, and thus give pregnant women the right to abort theese non-persons if they so chose —  at any time and for any reason.  Since that time more than 50 million people have been killed.

I went looking for Arendt’s book and comments when I became aware of the news blackout regarding Kermit Gosnell, the “doctor” on trial in Philadelphia now, charged with the murder of at least one of his patients and of at least seven infants born alive.  In fact there were more, many more, casualties of both kinds.  These were simply the ones which could be easily proven in court.

From what I have been able to read about Gosnell and his practice, such as it was, filth is too good a word to describe the conditions in which he operated, cruelty too soft a word to describe the kind of treatment he provided, and victims too kind a word for the poor people who came within his grasp.

Yet he was respected.  He enjoyed a certain popularity.  He was looked up to in the community he “served”.  Himself an African-American, the vast majority of his victim-patients were African-American. The way he operated reminds me of Rudolph Hoess, Commandant of Auschwitz, who also had the law behind him.

Of course you know that his medical “practice” was in the area of “Women’s Health”, a code word for abortion.  And, except for one or two stories lately in perhaps a half dozen major newspapers and TV news outlets not a word has been said about what Gosnell is charged with doing, how he did it or why.  Those few words that have been said, have been said in self-defense by the major news machines, and, not too very subtly, to blame the atrocities Gosnell committed on his pregnant victims and the living, defenseless “products of conception” that fell victim to his malevolence, to blame it all on those who want to end legalized abortion.  In a sense, they seek to blame the victim for the crime.  Had really good care been available they argue and bloviate, then women would not have had to submit to Gosnell’s cruetlies.

Well, “really good care” was available from Planned Parenthood within an hour’s drive of Gosnell’s Mengelian death clinic.  That clinic, too, was recently closed and prosecutors are preparing charges for operations that sound chillingly gosnellian.

There is nothing new about that.  Planned Parenthood clinics are regularly shut down because of their slipshod practices, their filth, their unlicensed personnel, their lack of care.  But who, in Hell, would expect to be treated well or with compassion?  One goes there to kill.  Kindness and killing don’t mix well.  Care and killing are opposed.  Sooner or later kindness and care leave, are pushed aside for the pleasures of killing, the need to kill.  Care costs, takes time.  Killing is easy.

Besides, why waste care on those unworthy of it, the under classes.

This last is, really, the reason that Planned Parenthood exists, despite all their rhetoric about women’s health.  The people who founded Planned Parenthood are, likethe Nazis, perfecters of the breed.  “Bring us your poor, your weak, your defective, your congenital idiots and deformed, and we will kill them for you.  Often we will kill you in the bargain.  Then we will be perfect and free.”

You will understand my confusion, I think, when I learned a few days ago that the wife of the US AG, owns a building which houses an abortion clinic.   “What!!??” I exclaimed to the empty room when I came across the article on the internet.  From the ether came the answer, “Don’t you see, Peter, how necessary this is?”  Well, no, I was a little doubtful why the US Ag, who is black, and his wife, who is black, should be hosts to an abortion facility which caters primarily to black women.  Do you doubt the last statement?  Then please look at the picture in the ad for the Old National GYN and come to your own conslusions.  I was interested to find out from spending a little time there at the site that no one is named.  You wouldn’t know anyone even worked there, except something called board certified physicians.

Here is a link to an excellent article article about Mr. and Mrs. Holder’s Little Wayside Abortuary.  As the article says, it explains a lot.

The place looks nice on Google, so I can’t tell if it’s been decorated with gosnellian attention to decor; if baby bits and precious bodily fluids and cat crap are artfully placed and displayed.  But I was interested to know that Eric and the Mrs. are in on a place whose last operator has been indicted in by the feds in Atlanta for going south with 300 large in medicaid funds he fraudulently billed.  That is felony weight anywhere.  And, Eric has the case.  I’m sure he’ll do a good job, aren’t you?

I cannot remember if Eichmann In Jerusalem mentions at all the millions of dollars, the jewels and art work, the fillings and hair, that the SS and all the other nazi murderers harvested from the Jews they killed all those years ago.  “What does it matter, now?” a recent Secretary of State might angrily squawk.  Indeed.  But, I do know that Gosnell has gotten rich killing babies and the occasional poor woman.

Please don’t get the wrong idea, here about Eric and Kermit the Impaler.  I don’t want anyone to think they are the same kind of fools as were the leaders of the Jewish communities in Germany who cooperated with their Nazi killers.  Those tortured souls really had their backs against the wall, though that is no excuse for their actions.

No, there is no government or any of its agencies, no maniacal ruler here in these Untied States intent on eradicating a whole race, and whole classes of people.

What we have is Barack H. Obama, for at least the next three some odd years,  Oh, and Kathleen Sebellius, the token white woman.  With friends like these, black folks don’t need enemies.

In order for me to make some sense of that statement I’ll return to Arendt and her wearisome story of evil in a crisp uniform.  But before I do that, allow me to get rid of this little factoid I stumbled across.  For every 1,000 black children born in this country, 1400 are aborted.

Anyway, Arendt tells the story of one of these Jewish officials, a fellow named Kastner in Hungary or one of those eastern European countries whose cooperation was needed by Eichmann.  She mentioned that Eichmann liked most to deal with Zionists, they were idealists, and Kastner was a Zionist.  According to Arendt, Eichmann himself was an “idealist”, which for him meant a person who would do anything in service of his “ideal”, no matter what was required.  This Jewish fellow was a man like that.

Eichmann wanted a nice orderly removal of Jews to Auschwitz.  This fellow cut a deal with him.  In exchange for a trainload of a couple of thousand of the right type of Jews in one direction out of the country…safe passage…the guy guaranteed a docile herd of a few hundred thousand Jews waiting patiently for the one way trip to Auschwitz.  The people given a ride out of hell were all Zionists; Eichmann’s right kind of Jew, the ones who didn’t want to be there.  For them, though Arendt doesn’t say it, what’s the loss of a few hundred thousand lower class no accounts.

It is a fact that Obama, a black man, is fervently “pro-choice”.  In other words he believes in abortion.  He has said as much regarding his own children, and he has spoken against laws which would restrict abortion; especially late term abortions, the kind of abortions tailor made for gosnellian horrors .

It is a fact that though they account for 13% of the population, black women make up nearly 40% of those who have abortions.  It is a fact that Planned Parenthood abortion facilities are predominently located in or near black and lower class neighborhoods.

One might reasonably conclude from his words and actions that our president is an Eichmannian idealist regarding abortion as an agent for change in the black community particularly and throughout the country.  Abortion at any time and for any reason advances his agenda because it erodes family structures and makes for a population ever more dependent on government, and supportive of its policies and positions.  Certainly, he has not used his considerable influence among the leaders of the abortion industry and within the black community to diminish either abortion’s popularity or its availability.  His Obamacare, is obviously designed to further increase the ease with which black women abort.  And, everyone else, too.

Among a lot of other distasteful “changes” being put into place, that’s race hatred by another name! But it stinks just as much.

Holder??  He’s a Renfield to Obama’s Dracula.

“In the face of those who would visit death upon innocents, we will choose to save and to comfort and to heal.”

When the lights are on, and the cameras rolling.

Nah, That Can’t Never Happen Here —. You Think?


Abortion is largely accepted even for reasons that do not have anything to do with the fetus’ health. By showing that (1) both fetuses and newborns do not have the same moral status as actual persons, (2) the fact that both are potential persons is morally irrelevant and (3) adoption is not always in the best interest of actual people, the authors argue that what we call ‘after-birth abortion’ (killing a newborn) should be permissible in all the cases where abortion is, including cases where the newborn is not disabled.

This is an abstract from something called The Journal of Medical Ethics.  I have long ago reached the conclusion  that the proper and legal definition of an ethicist of any stripe is : “A person who, for a nice fat fee, will tell you that whatever you wish to do, no matter how bizarre, repugnant, illegal, immoral or fattening, you may do. ”

“That?  Sure, you can do it.  That’ll be $250.00.  Pay my girl Nausea on the way out.  No checks without two forms of picture ID, please.  Next!”

There’s an article here.  You can read a bit more about the story…if you have the stomach for it.  But, all you really need to know is contained in the abstract from JME.  These guys love acronyms, and I want to please them.  At my age, I figure I’ll be next to be okayed for the trip to the Release center.  Oh, wait, I already have that “right”.

It would take a more sober, reasoned and smart person than me to look at that abstract and take it apart bit by bit; exposing it for the outrageously smug, insipid and stupid thing that it is.  I simply want to blow it up, and punch out the authors, the editors and anyone vaguely connected with the thing.  I can probably get a bunch of ethicists to tell me that it’s the epitome of ethics to do so.

But, I won’t do that.  For one thing I haven’t got the plane fare to Australia.  I’m wondering, now though, if its ethical to ask for donations.  Hmmm.


While I was sitting here trying to get the best of my gag reflex a couple of things occurred to my mind.  I imagined a couple of scenes from the near future:

The first is a quiet little corner in Portland, OR, the place first in love with death here in the Untied States.  It’s about 6:00pm on a lovely day in May.  The sound of a garage door closing is heard and then the door opens into a bright, neat, modern kitchen.  A young woman stands  at the central work station obviously preparing something for the evening meal.  She smiles as a tall slim fellow walks through the door and gives her a hug and a kiss.

YW:  Sorry, Brutus, my hands are so yucky.  I’ve been working all afternoon on this.  I thought we’d have something special.  I hope you’ll like it.

YM:  That’s just fine Gladiola.  I’ll fix us a drink.  Where’s Benjie?

YW:  Oh, he’s probably asleep on the rug inside.  He had a busy day outside today running around chasing butterflies.

YM:  I love that little fella.  So, what’s for supper?

YW:  Well you know we had to decide today…

YM:  Oh, yes.  So did you?  I would have been happy to stay home, but BIFFING Steel has this big job they were interested in having us handle and Smothersworth wanted me to look it over.  I was out there all day.  Sorry I’m a little late.  Anyway, it looks like we’ll take it, and you know what that means.”

YW:  Oh, now we can go to Fiji for my sister’s wedding t0 Allred.  It’s her 7th and it means so much, and I can wear that lovely thing I have been so wanting to ever since..”

YM:  Honey, isn’t that sauce…?

YW:  (Looking over at the stove.)  Oh, no, everything’s fine.  I’ll just need you to get the lumps out later.  Anyway, I really didn’t need you today.  I spoke with Polonia across the street.  She said I could do it myself, everyone does these days.  So I did.  It was so easy and kind of fun.

YM:  Oh, here’s the dog!  Hey Benjie, you lucky guy.  I wish I had your life chasing butterflies all day long.  C’mere you little dickens.

YW:  Anyway, afterward, I cleaned it and prepared it for tonight’s supper.  I used Polonia’s mother’s recipe since you liked it so much when we had it over there for the 4th of July last year.

YM: Great!  I’ll make us a drink, now and get outta this straight jacket.  Hey, what are you gonna call your version of the dish?

YW:  Well we were going to name it Bobbie before we decided it would really be funner in Fiji, so I’m calling it Bobbicued Kid.

YM:  (Laughing and petting the dog)  That’s great.  I love your sense of humor.  I hope we have plenty of leftovers.


And, here is the second scene:

“Good morning, East Bluegill Public Works Department.”

“Hello.  Is this where I arrange for a trash pickup.”

“Yes, Ma’am.  What is it?”

“I have a dead kid in my refrigerator.  I did it this morning, and I want it out.  I’ve got some shopping to do this afternoon and need the room.  I checked and I can’t bury it out side where we put Sniggles last year.”

“No, your right.  Besides raccoons might dig it up and leave a mess.”

“I don’t want that for sure.  When can you come?”

“Just wrap it good in some plastic and leave it by the curb before 6:30 tomorrow morning.  Or, if you want, you can bring it to the dump before 5 this afternoon.  Anyway.  Whatever’s easier for you.”

“I think I just leave it at the curb.  Thank you.”

“No problem.”


You may want to write to the JME, I don’t know.  I though of doing so and asking if they had any good recipes.

A Woman Said

What follows was part of a discussion on a well known “social media site”.  I copied it because I thought it said a lot about a great divide in our country, the one between two kinds of people, two generations, two different world views, two different cultures.  It was occasioned by the appearance of a cartoon showing the President of these Untied States wearing the clerical robes of a pope.  It was s satirical cartoon designed for strong reactions, and it got them.  People objected to the artist’s robing Obama as the Catholic Pontiff, commented on his support for abortion and his refusal to recognize the conscience rights of Catholics.  Someone, a young woman, wrote:

I find it disturbing, but I’m mostly offended by the commentary it represents. I don’t like Obama, but I don’t find him to be any more “tyrannical” or arrogant than any other President we’ve had. Calling him a Communist really just illuminates one’s complete misunderstanding of communism, and the equation of abortion with the Holocaust as well as the implication that requiring insurance to cover birth control is equal to abortion, just pisses me off.

And someone replied that while the Holocaust had destroyed a mere 6 million, the death toll from abortion was much higher than that.  They wanted to know why such a thing as that comparison “pissed her off”.  The lady said:

Because those Jews weren’t unborn fetuses whose existence required the cooperation of women whose bodies they’d be inhabiting, stressing, straining and whose lives they’d be massively impacting irreparably as a result…. I think people have a right to liberty and pursuit of happiness. I don’t think carrying unwanted pregnancies to term is part of either of those things.

This occasioned a criticism of the lady’s position on abortion and contraception as rights guaranteed by the Constitution and legitimate medical procedures necessary for good reproductive healthShe took issue:

Yeah… I disagree. People have a right to want to get off with a partner without getting pregnant as a result, and they also have a right to end pregnancies. You see – there’s a part of anyone’s moral compass that may say “well, in the event of rape – or in the event of medical complications – or in the event of abuse – or in the event of an accident…” well guess what – I don’t think the government should be sitting in a woman’s doctor’s office with her… and I don’t consider myself or anyone else an appropriate judge of when it’s “okay” and it’s not to abort an unwanted fetus – so in the interest of liberty, I’m going to excuse myself and the government acting on my behalf, and anyone else I have the power to excuse, of the right to decide when that woman may exercise her physical autonomy. She is a free being – if she chooses to allow a fetus to grow inside her, if she chooses to remove it – that’s entirely none of anybody else’s business. The moral consequences are hers alone, whatever they may be….  I think people have a right to liberty and pursuit of happiness. I don’t think carrying unwanted pregnancies to term is part of either of those things.

As for the requirement that private employer’s insurance policies cover contraception – I could go on at length about the necessity of hormonal birth control for many women (such as myself) for entirely NON-birth control related reasons (if I don’t take it, I get terrible cysts due to my endometriosis – cysts that may very well prevent me from getting pregnant in the future when I choose to) – but also that I don’t think an employer, whether or not it’s the Catholic church, should be making the medical decisions of its employees. Removing one area of coverage allows others to be chipped away at – and employers and insurance companies may find it in their interest to lower premiums by not covering many routine and/or necessary procedures they chose not to agree with for whatever reason.

Someone took issue with her position:

You need not go on at length about the necessity of hormonal treatments for many women. I am relying only on my memory, and anecdotes from a woman (my first mother-in-law, may she rest in peace) who worked for one of the doctors who developed such medications here, but I seem to recall that he and his colleagues were concerned to develop medications for those conditions…and to regulate the menstrual cycles of their patients who were having trouble conceiving. I got the distinct impression that this one doctor, at least, was dismayed at what has been made of his work, since. That is merely an impression, though.

That said, it would be heartless of me to seek to bar someone who needed an effective treatment from getting it, and I would think the same of anyone else who held that view, that they were heartless. However, I would give odds that the number of therapeutic uses to which those medications are put is far outweighed by the number of women who use them for what is thought by most of the world to be their only use. You and I do not agree that people have a” right to get off with a partner without getting pregnant as a result”, especially if the exercise of that “right” requires me…or any other person, or organization….whose religion and deeply held belief consider such a thing morally reprehensible. More than that, I am not alone in thinking that requiring persons who so believe to pay for the means to do so in however small a part is equally reprehensible. In such a case, my constitutional right to the free practice of my religion trumped the other” right” you champion so eloquently…until January 20.

Let me make myself clear, here. There is no right that I know to health care of any kind either enumerated in the constitution or to be found in the shadows of those rights enumerated…except for abortion from 1973, a procedure which I and many others consider homicide, now made legal and claimed as a right, and simply because it is performed by doctors in clinics and hospitals also recognized as a “therapeutic” procedure…an Orwellian mangling of language if ever there was one.

Finally, I’ll risk being possibly incorrect on your position about Obamacare, but I think I will be safe in concluding that whatever it is, your position and mine on the so called “mandate” and its subsequent amendment meet with your approval. If I am wrong you may chalk it up to my leaping to that conclusion from your assertion of a right to mutual getting off without the risk/threat of pregnancy.  Even though the exercise of that right requires the use of some forms of contraception for a perversion of their original purpose.

Time and space do not permit an exploration of why I would reject as immoral such things. Time and space do not allow, either, for a discussion which I think needs being had in this country about responsibilities and duties rather than rights; concepts which would seem to me to rule out such things as mutual getting off without the risk of pregnancy. Suffice to say the arguments would be framed within natural law principles, which I suppose you know well and reject. And, now, I retire.

And that is the way it rests.  Silence reigns, and no one is satisfied with anyone else.

It’s a Ding Dong World #7659

I just read a short bit on a web site called Bio-Edge about this news article and the report it refers to from Old Blighty, where it seems down is up and verse visa.  The fellow mentioned that over there 98% of ladies who get their wombs hoovered do so to avoid the mental distress of  giving birth and raising a kid.  They are very kind in Blighty.

“I simply can’t bear the thought of having this around all that time and missing the Queen’s birthday, or Ascot and all those lovely hats.”

“Not a problem, Lady Snuffem.  We’ll have this out of you in plenty of time for tea.”

The writer asks if the report means that now 98% of British abortions are illegal.  Good question.  Who’s lying to whom?  And, what about the odd duck who does commit suicide, or feel bad for years about having had an abortion.  Would she have felt as bad had the child been born and lived, and was living now?  Is the stress of child rearing a good enough reason to have them all killed…or 98% of them anyway of all of them who are headed for the recycling center?  Shhh!  There are questions which politeness requires us not to ask.

Good Lord, it just occurred to me that may be the reason why the British have all of those fogs and mists and moors to wail upon.  The whole place is neurasthenic.

It is encouraging to note that the doctors who have done the study seem to think that there is some stress accompanying the decision to end a pregnancy before a pregnancy ends.  That may be, if the 98% number tells the truth.  Of course it must tell the truth.  Don’t we all know numbers don’t lie, because , well, who really wants to be pregnant?

“Oh, Dr. Slippenfall, Montague says we just cannot visit Majorca this summer if I am still preggers.  There is such tension at home.”

“Now, now, Adelaide, I know Montague.  His practice requires a rest every once in a while, and you do have that lovely little bulldog Chelsea.”

“Well, if you say so.  There are all of those new things I bought which would just devastate me to leave behind.”

And, so, they will probably conclude and recommend that more should be done about this problem of unwanted pregnancy.  The solution, since ending them seems to be about a guilt free as getting rid of the trash, will probably be to recommend more abortion.

That’s what I think will happen, anyway.  Given the trend toward the death option over there from both ends of the average life span, I figure the place will be empty in about 50 years.

Half Orphans, Drive By Dads and Less

The ‘Hood’s full of babies, live ones and dead ones.  I’m on Facebook.  I finally succumbed to the temptation a couple of months ago after our daughter had been after us to do so for almost a year, and the grand children were mentioning all the fun they had.  Who could resist?

After I joined I was surprised to find the number of folks my age, and a generation younger who flood my FB page with pictures and tales of newborns, toddlers and about to be babies. (Like a shark’s rows of teeth, I’m of the generation that is ready to fall off and float to the sea bottom.)  I read delightful tales of christenings and first steps, bits and pieces of the young ones antics and parents’ weary responses, and look at tons and tons of cute fat cheeked baby pictures, smiling mothers and gooey eyed fathers.  I am particularly fond of experiencing the Auld Folks melting softness, glowing love and warm joy coming through their announcements and updates.  Mine are all too old for diapers and bottles, but the stories invoke the memories, and breed hopes that I may yet see and hold one of my own great-grandchildren before I drop off the Shark’s Lip of Life.

Well, isn’t that nice, you may say.  But, it isn’t everything.  Read on.

I am even connected through Facebook to a few folks who are a couple of rows of teeth behind me, behind even the Moms and Dads who tell the bright laughing stories.  They have their own stories and pictures, too; not a few of them, oddly enough, about the births of their own babies, and they show the pictures, and bring on the cooing and congratulatory comments.  The difference here is that there are only Moms, no Dads, in the pictures or behind the cameras.  No Dads are in the picture that is, if you get my drift.

Believe what you see, and you could conclude we are becoming a place of fatherless children being raised by mothers young enough to go clothes shopping with their daughters or dancing with their sons.  The kids’ll never hear, “Wait till your father comes home!”  Dad, like the salmon, is downstream, somewhere.  Who will take his place?  If no one does, what will life be like for men and women raised by other  women barely more than older sisters, and tired grand parents when Mom needs to go to work waitressing or cleaning out some mall somewhere?  Will the the nearest thing to a father be Mom’s date?  What fathers have become in this arrangement is the functional equivalent drive by dads.

I am happy, I suppose, for the fact that these youngsters gave birth, but I have a heaviness of heart about their reasons for doing so, their own futures and their children’s.  All the more reason for praying, then.  While I have no way of knowing if these children were conceived as part of  the growing trend of “intentional” pregnancies among young women, many still in high school,  I do know of one person who said she has no thought of marrying.  “Marriage isn’t done these days.”  Lord, help us all if children are becoming simply a notion, an accessory.

One wonders, at least I do, what may have been the case if during the now almost mandatory pre-natal testing indications of some serious deformity or genetic disease had been detected.  A child is not a wardrobe item to be returned.  Not quite yet I pray, though the link does highlight our increasingly hard-hearted and eugenically oriented culture.

Such cruelties as are discussed in the article above are ancient cruelties one may hope.  It may be a vain hope when one considers what horrors went known and unchecked in Philadelphia for years until Dr. Kermit Gosnell was indicted.  God alone knows how many murders were committed there in conditions which rivaled a slaughter house.  You may, if you have a strong stomach, read the actual indictment.  Having read a few indictments in my time I was struck by many things, the anger of the Grand Jurors, their scorn for the “politics” of abortion which influenced the treatment of Dr. Gosnell and his “clinic” and the damning criticism that Gosnell was allowed to operate as he did because his clients were all poor minorities.

Anger, scorn and criticism are more than justified.  The people who believe that abortion is a matter for a pregnant woman to decide do not try to tell us that a Dr. Gosnell is anything but an aberration in that trade.  They daren’t.  Rather, they want us to know, and feel good about, the fact that safe and responsible, clean and pleasant abortions are what the industry provides.  We have come a long way from leaving unwanted infants on the town dump for passing gulls and crows.  It is possible, now, to remark without seeming outrageously cynical and two-faced if one is a NARAL or NOW member, that abortion would be unnecessary if we just had better sex education and more efficient and available contraception.  The real truth is far more scary, especially when one begins to think seriously about that nasty word eugenics and its many shades of meaning and many ways of application.

Perhaps, some day, we will go so far as to awaken from this nightmare, this craziness affecting us all, wherein on the one hand we don’t blink an eye at children giving birth while fatherhood disappears down a dusty trail and on the other hand headlines in major newspapers spin a story about a 40 percent abortion rate in New York City being due to restrictive laws on abortion elsewhere, or opine that there’s no big deal, anyway since we’ve always had abortion.  Are they asking us to relax and learn to enjoy it?  At least it’s legal, now, and would go away altogether if everyone could avoid conceiving in the first place.

Except, of course, if you’re fifteen and need to have your own baby to dress and take pictures of.

UPDATE: Perhaps we may finally be able to accept as true, and live up to the truth, that, as Walker Percy pointed out in 1981 , we are human from our conception, and each of us unique.  Of course it implodes the myth that we have all of these rights and choices which has led to the mayhem we have been inflicting on ourselves lately.  We will have to understand that rights, so called, do not trump responsibilities, and choices which we think we have a right to make in many cases should be avoided for the harm they do to others.  Perhaps salmon will some day speak, too.  The Bradan Feasa, did he say a word to us then, would probably begin by telling us how wrong we have been.



Happy Birthday!

The first ones would be thirty-seven years old today.  Their children would be in their teens; high schoolers carrying iPods, texting everyone in the wide world, Facebookers.  Spouses would have gone off to work somewhere in the city, out into a field, or over to the factory by now.  Perhaps they both would have to go to work.  So many couples do that now, you know.

This is the time of year for planning vacations with the kids.  Maybe they’d be sitting now at a computer getting information on air fares, nice beaches, tickets at Disney World.  Was Disney World around thirty-seven years ago?

The first ones would be thirty-seven years old today.  It’s Friday today.  The weekend starts and tonight might have been movie night.  Would they take the kids to Papa Gino’s and then over to watch “Avatar “on the other side of town at the huge “Cine-plex” with the stadium seats and a ten dollar barrel of popcorn for everyone?  Perhaps they would be the kind of folks who like to stay home and play some board games with the kids.  I kind of wish I’d had the chance to know them.  Today I miss them.  I think I will miss them every day.

The last ones have no age at all, since we don’t start counting those things until one year of breathing on your own has been completed.  They won’t get to see the sun rise or set, to stand outside in the rain, throw a ball, take a math test. learn to drive.  They have no age at all, the last ones.  We cannot count for them.

Oh, I suppose that not every one of them would have led the kind of life I’ve led.  Maybe their mistakes would have been bigger, their faults more obvious, their sins more heinous, and they more in need of mercy from us all.  Maybe they wouldn’t have seen what I have seen of life, or been able to see anything at all, or talk about it with anyone at all.  Is that the reason?  Should I feel better for them, then, or because of what has happened to them?

Today, their birthday, there will be thousands who will wonder what may have been.  It’s strange how we do that; wonder what may have been.  My father used to play that game with me, sometimes; the game he called Imagine If.  I was supposed to tell him what I would do if I imagined I was someone, someplace, somewhere.  Who can ever ask them?

I never played it with my own children.  Our make believe games were all, somehow, more concrete.  I was someone, they were someone’s, too, and we were all somewhere together.  Our minds placed us here or there and we took on another name in another place, and did almost anything we wanted to do.

Now, I play it with them even though I know that there is no way.  Yet, today I play it with them, and I have been playing the game since I woke up this morning.  I have to do something with them today.   Today is their birthday, if any day is for those who have never seen a day.  I can see them all in my imagination, filling the streets, crowding everywhere, the younger ones and the very first ones; the ones who would have been thirty-seven years old.  I see the ones my own children might have played with, might have gone to school with, might have dated and married.  But they never did.  I see the new-borns.

We play games, you know, to pass the time in each other’s company, to enjoy ourselves, to be friendly and companionable.  We have always played games, all our history in every age, games and sharing each other’s company have been part of life.  Hospitality, welcome, sharing.  These are virtues.  These are acts of charity and of love.  These are us at our most human, at our best.  We have been brought up to share ourselves, to welcome the new one and the stranger.  Well, I must play with them, these millions who are here today.

I remember the games at my children’s birthday parties.  I remember how much pleasure we all took in them, from the youngest to the oldest.  I remember the joy on their faces.

Will you play and sing with me, today?  Will you play and sing Happy Birthday to the strangers who are here, the millions of shadows around my heart?

A Short Observation About Fools

August is the foolish month.  But, it is nearing the end of August, thank God.  Because, since the beginning of August, the most uncomfortable month of the year, we have had to suffer much more than heat and humidity.  We have had to suffer the near presence of those loudmouths and fools we send to Washington, DC, just to get them out of the way, and allow us normal folks to live, more or less, peacefully.

They have found a reason to come back and affront us with their acid mix of pride, ignorance, pomposity and privilege, especially galling since we pay them well to stay away.  This time the occasion for their return is their concern for our health, and a desire, I think, to set a record for spending which may never be equaled as long as time exists.  Alas, it is one of the times of the year when I wish there were no such thing as freedom of speech.  Others occur around the time of the Super Bowl and its excess of stupidity.

They, politicians, are an intrepid, if slightly crazy, band.  Most of them think they are up to some good, and this is a dangerous thing.  And so, an army of politicians has invaded the country.  A series of battles have already taken place with honest folk, worried that something bad may actually happen if the politicians are left alone. Protests and insults are hurled.  Most of these appear in the form aggrieved cries of outrage from those we call our representatives and editorial protests in the press that people are actually exercising that right I spoke of.

On the one side are the forces of social regression, which is what politicians and the press call voters. Against them stand the brave men and women who raise the banner of compassion, health and happiness against dark misery and illness.  The very interesting thing is that no one on either side understands the issue which joined them in battle.  Who could?  It is a piece of legislation written in a style which Lewis Carroll would envy.  Instead of humor, though, misery will result.

Anent misery I offer this small story, unnoticed of course. Nonetheless: http://www.thecatholicthing.org/content/view/2072/2/

It is a story of another misery, suffered by millions and to be suffered by millions more if the Prime Minister of Hope and Change gets his way. Please read it and know that reliable and peer reviewed, but nearly unknown, research has shown how common this malady is; not to mention the fifty percent mortality its onset causes.

In a related vein, I was delighted to know that recent medical studies have proved that nursing a child greatly reduces a woman’s chance of contracting breast cancer. I remember reading the disdainful and sarcastic reactions to the studies which appeared a few years ago showing a link between abortion and breast cancer.

And, now?

I wonder, then, if there will come from some place within the vast beast that is the NIH an announcement linking the information provided by these two bits of science and suggesting that we might, umm, either provide mastectomies as a prophylactic measure to women who abort, or simply stop doing the latter and save two lives.

I shall wonder on that for a bit, and contemplate what fools we are.

Nancy’s Play Date

Nancy Pretty came to the Palace for a play date.  She brought her pictures and wore a pretty dress.  She showed her pictures to everyone and pointed out who was who.  Here was her husband, and here were the kids, and here a grand child or two.  The Pope smiled and shook her hand and whispered in her ear.  “You and your family all look grand, but I have something to tell you my dear that I’m afraid you won’t like to hear.”

Nancy’s smile faded while an ugly frown creased her brow.  She whispered back to the kindly old man, “Please don’t tell me that now.  I’m having such fun playing pretend that I am a good Catholic, you see.  I really don’t want all that to end, the robes and the incense, the sweet fantasy.  Just look at my pictures and I’ll kiss your ring and then go away.  I’ll tell everyone how nice it all was.  Oh, and have someone spray the place.  I keep hearing flies buzz.””

He stopped smiling, but gripped her hand still and looked his most fatherly look.  She closed her mouth and with a grimace tried pulling away, thinking “This isn’t the game I wish to play.  It’s not fair.  He’s mean.  He won’t let me enjoy the day.”

“Child,” he began, in a soft gentle voice, “please hear what I have to say.  Danger and death are closing on you, and blood is on your hands.  You have chosen a path to walk at home that will lead to hot barren lands where many souls cry for relief but receive agony at Satan’s foul hands.  Stop, while you may, your foolish support for death and come home at last to the light.  Your dark decision to to continue your way will lead only deeper to night.”

“Thank you, Pope,” said Nancy, now bitter at having her whole day ruined.  “I wanted to come here simply to see you and have a nice afternoon.  Now everyone knows that you hate me, and I now I must hate you too.  I hate everything you’ve said to me, and I hate everything that you do.  I’m leaving your palace and taking my pictures and throwing away my dress.  I’ll never come back here, never again!”

She twisted her hand from the Pope’s hand and turned with a toss of her head.  She walked to the door of the room they were in and through it and out in the air.  Back in the room, there appeared a man with a can of spray for the flies.  The Pope raised his hand and waved him away.  “They’re gone,” he said.  “They’re with poor Nancy…outside.”

(NOTE:  This is of course all fiction, and I sincerely hope nothing of the sort ever happened.  It is a small and impoverished hope ranked against the incorrigible and  towering arrogance and ignorance of the pampered and powerful, poor Nancy and her ilk.)