24 February 2011

Just because you do not take an interest in politics doesn't mean politics won't take an interest in you

Seems like every time I read a news article lately, that little spot right between my shoulder blades starts to tighten up and I find myself clenching my teeth. Gee, I wonder why ...
  • Members of Congress are trying to do an end-run around a woman's right to choose when and how to reproduce by cutting Federal funding for Planned Parenthood, which, by the way, offers a hell of a lot of necessary health services for a hell of a lot of women who might not otherwise have access to them.
  • On a similar front, legislators in Nebraska and Georgia have apparently lost their ever-lovin' minds and are trying to pass laws that 1) Make miscarriage a crime, punishable by the death penalty, and 2) Make murder of an abortion provider defensible as a "justifiable homicide". Then there's the Federal "Protect Life Act" that would allow hospitals to refuse to perform emergency abortions -- even if the woman would die without one. What kills me is that these people sincerely do not see the irony in the fact that they call themselves "Pro-Life".
  • Meanwhile, Mike Huckabee is throwing Straw Men into the ring with his comparison of abortion to slavery, claiming that a woman's right to choose to have an abortion or not is analogous to a slaver having the power of life and death over a slave. Nice try, Mike. But an embryo is not a person, it's a group of cells with the potential to become a person. By that logic, if you donate an ovum, you're guilty of human trafficking? But if you're so concerned about it, maybe you could take some time out of your campaign schedule to address the real and ongoing issues of forced prostitution and human trafficking that are still happening in our country every single day?
  • And then there's this Canadian judge who needs to be taken into a dark alley to be pawed and penetrated by a 250 pound drunk and then see if he still thinks rape can be explained away as "misunderstood signals and inconsiderate behaviour," excusable if the rapist is "insensitive to the fact (she) was not a willing participant."
  • He must be having drinks at the boys' club with the politicians who thought it would be a good idea to specify that federal funding can only be used for abortions resulting from "forcible" rape. You know, as opposed to the enjoyable kind.

Is it any wonder that I'm feeling a little defensive, lately?

I hate politics. I don't usually have really strong feelings about "party" associations. I do lean to the left on most social issues. But, in general, I also agree with Mark Twain that most politicians are idiots, regardless of party affiliation.

But given the increase in outright attacks on women's rights and women's issues coming primarily from the right side of the aisle recently, I'm really not loving the Republican Party these days.

In fact, I'm starting to feel a bit like the proverbial moose in the GOP's helicopter lights. *BLAM*

I dunno about you, but my head's not going to be mounted in someone's den without a fight.

Dear Republican Party:
Screw you, too, you misogynistic SOBs. 
Bring it on,


Just because you do not take an interest in politics doesn't mean politics won't take an interest in you.
~ Pericles (430 BC)

11 February 2011

You bring the bullets, I'll bring the wine

I've occasionally been accused of having a bit of a bite to my sense of humor. So, it's not really a surprise that my take on Valentine's Day has, in the past, been just a smidge on the sick-and-twisted side.

Let the tradition continue:



And, finally, because a ZenMom Valentine's Day post is just not complete without Zombies ...

Be Mine,

P.S. Trooper Thorn over at Dogs and Jeans has a V-Day post I can get behind. ;)

* Images blatantly borrowed from the devilishly brilliant WrongCards and Someecards.

** Post Title: Bullets, byBob Schneider

01 February 2011

On context, the importance thereof

One of the guys in my Kenpo class works at a Starbucks just down the street from my office. I stop in there on my way to work at least once a week for my morning coffee and we usually chat for a minute or two about class. It only occurred to me this morning that my conversations with this handsome, 22-year-old classmate might sound a bit ... odd ... to the random bystander:
"So, feeling a little sore this morning?" 

"Oh, not bad. But you really worked me over last night!"

"That was a lot of fun, huh?"

"Oh yeah, you really nailed that one move."

"Sorry if I hurt you."

"No worries. I'll make you pay for it when I get my hands on you tomorrow night!" 

No WONDER that woman in line was staring at us!