A Ferret Called Wilson

Chasing Happy, Chasing Dreams



Fuck That (Reparations)

Saw a link to this essay claiming that it was going to jumpstart a movement as grand as the gay rights movement. It claims that “America will never be whole” as long as it holds this debt to the poor black man, compounded with over 435 years of interest.

Well fuck that! The entire fucking globe has shat on my kind for centuries, nay millenia! The Ancient Jews of Before Christ were bartering my kind for livestock, punishing our rapists with our hand in marriage, throwing us to the wolves to save their hairy stank asses from getting rammed instead. And Jesus didn’t exactly fix things. Modern Christians flog us endlessly for Original Sin, accuse us of murder for trying to control our own bodies, guilt us out of life and liberty with sad images of our neglected children. We are the cause of our enemies’ moral failings and we must give up our faces and our identities in order to protect them from punishment.

The fucking President of the United States is a fucking Black Motherfucking Sausage Swinger.

But who is calling for our reparations?

“I’m Alive Because My Mom Had an Abortion”

I was hanging out at this feminist website the other day when I found an article talking about the “narratives” about abortion. The summary is that abortion is dangerous, a last resort, and really rare. In other words, abortion is for women who fail.

Now there are other stories about abortion, too. The anti-abortion political faction known as “Pro Lifers” chose their name to paint by contrast the idea that abortion is for people who do not value life, or murderers.

But how many people do you know who are alive exactly because of abortion? I’m not talking about women who are alive because their pregnancies were putting their lives at risk, I’m talking about their children. I’m talking about a very dear friend of mine.

Over thirty years after she was born, my friend’s father still does not know the truth about his family. You see, her mother was not a virgin when she got married. In fact, her mother had gotten pregnant by another man who abused her. Her father, a man with a heart of gold but a raging temper, told her mother that he would not marry her if she had children by another man. Because her mother chose to abort that first pregnancy, she was able to marry and give birth to and raise my friend into the beautiful woman she has become today.

And because proverbial butterflies have wings, I, too, am alive because of that abortion. Abortions do not only save lives, they create them, too.

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