Archives for 2009

Just got off the phone with my mom, which reminded me that perhaps a post is also in order. A very happy Mother’s Day to all the moms who read this blog, and a thank you to those moms who find time to post on ProWomanProLife, too. (I don’t know how you do it. I really don’t. But barring any conversions to the Amish, I hope you keep on doing it.)

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Brigitte would like to add: I was just driving through Amish country in upstate New York an hour or so ago and, well, maybe I’ll stick with electricity after all.

Every now and then you encounter amazing stories like this one:

Oceané McKenzie, with fingers the length of a paper clip and a tiny mop of brown hair, has become the first baby in Canada to successfully undergo a life-saving heart intervention while still in her mother’s womb.

[…]

The experimental and risky procedure, performed by a team of doctors from the Hospital for Sick Children and Mount Sinai Hospital, involved putting a needle through Ms. McKenzie’s abdomen into the left ventricle of the baby’s heart. From there, doctors manoeuvred a wire the diameter of a strand of hair so a tiny balloon catheter could open the narrowed valve leading to Oceané’s aorta.

Doctors believe the little girl will have a normal life. Jolly good show.

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Andrea adds: Incidentally, when Terry O’Neill posted about this over at the Western Standard, it spurred on a tremendous debate, mostly between the same people, about “property rights” and “personhood.” I returned to check it out, and found it interesting insofar as if you want to change minds you should know what is convincing to others and what is not. You can check it out, here. (I did not read the whole thread.)

A reader sent a link to this advice column on the male contraceptive jab (a monthly, self-administered injection that is said to halt sperm production), and why girls shouldn’t trust a man who claims to be on the thing.

Imagine the scenario: boy meets girl, and, like so many young women now, she doesn’t know the man particularly well.

As they strip and get into bed, she asks him if he has ‘brought anything’. He says: ‘Don’t worry, I’ve had the jab.’

What woman in her right mind would believe that? At least you can see a condom with your own eyes. Or would they issue sperm-free certificates for men to carry around with their driving licences to prove they’re up to date with their jabs?

My first thought was “My, you’ve got to want sterile sex A LOT to get into that sort of routine, don’t you” and my second was “How much you wanna bet plenty of girls will believe the guy anyway?” My third thought was something unreprintable about this sorry state of affairs (whadayamean, she doesn’t know him yet she’s perfectly OK jumping into bed with him except she can’t believe a word he says? Can somebody explain to me what the point of that might possibly be?). And then I went off to mumble something suitably old-fashioned about how it used to be a lot more simple when people were forced to take responsibility for their actions.

Anyway. I swear I was going somewhere with this. Oh yes.

I just have two questions: 1) Wasn’t science supposed to make our lives better? And 2) Isn’t hedonism supposed to be fun?

A 22-year-old leaves her baby in the toilet after giving birth in a WalMart.

There is no evidence, Krishan said, “that this is a woman who wanted to abandon a live baby. She thought she was leaving a fetus.”

Is that all? Well then. Guess we don’t need to worry.

…Mostly because right now danger’s name is Elva. She’s really nice and we’re both wearing equipment. Yes, it’s the next phase in my karate journey, my friends, and they call it sparring: a fancy name for a form of fighting. Elva flashes her hand, I punch it. That kind of thing. I put this off for as long as possible, mind. I didn’t sign up for karate because I actually wanted to do anyone damage. I like the grace and strength of it all, actually. But apparently sans sparring I can’t advance in karate, so once a week I put on a spongy red helmet, and gloves, and shoes that say Ring Star.

I can assure you I am not—a Ring Star, that is. I am waiting for the moment when I deliver a strong upper cut and knock myself out. This, I have learned in kickboxing class, is a distinct possibility. Kickboxing, unlike sparring, is not mandatory. However, it is good exercise and involves looking tough while I punch into the air to a remix version of Billy Jean, Not My Lover by Michael Jackson. Then we switch things up, delivering very fierce roundhouse kicks, also into the air. I wouldn’t mess with some of the women in that class. By the time the remix of Gimme, Gimme, Gimme a Man after Midnight (Abba)—I love 80s remix classes—comes on we are on to a series of very intimidating hook, jab, punch combos.

I am not a fighter. But given that I run a pro-life blog, I really should be. I imagine myself as a kind of Hilary Swank in Million Dollar Baby, but instead of crying out for death, after the critical knockout has been delivered I would cry out for life, and then write my memoirs. (There will be no euthanasia here. I don’t have a will, so I’d appreciate it if someone would print this post out for any critical moments I hope don’t come.) Anyhoo, I imagine I am like Hilary Swank. Then I see myself in the mirrors, and I am very much brought back to the reality that I am–not.

In any event, I think there is a takeaway for any pro-life spokeswoman. Aren’t most journalists boozing softies? Next time I get a hostile question I’ll clamber over the security of the desk and put my newfound skills to good use, ending with a Victory Pose and flashing a quick smile into the camera followed by an even quicker exit. I will lose my day job, but at least I’ll go out with a bang, and be very, very famous on YouTube.

Karate. Enroll your sons and daughters, I say, because in this politically correct age, man to man combat may be the only remaining avenue of cultural coercion. We’ll want to be ready. (I am filing this post into the new “Andrea is losing it” category.)

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Brigitte is loving it: I always say orange belts are the most dangerous people in a dojo. Getting much stronger, but not quite at the point where they control everything the way they will later on. But yes, I agree. Being able to defend oneself is very much pro-life.

Hey, remember that picture of the fetus reaching out to grab the finger of the surgeon performing surgery on him while he was in his mother’s tummy? The kid is now nine years old and he swims like the dickens. How cool.

[warning: major yuk factor involved] There’s a bit of a kerfuffle in Germany over copulating corpses.

You read that right. It’s that crazy plasticized-cadavers-on-display business you may have heard about, which is already gross and disturbing enough. Now the promoter is pushing the envelope even further:

Pictures of the couple in the Cycle Of Life exhibition show a skinless man lying on his back with a woman sitting on him with her back towards his head.

Where to begin?

Part of me (the cynical and jaded part) wonders why the guy had to be so bourgeois. Why didn’t he go for some serious same-sex incestuous polygamist action? Man and woman having sex. How horrendously heteronormative. (Can we file a human-rights complaint?)

Another part of me (the only slightly cynical and jaded part) shrugs, thinking: “Well, you live in a culture that aggressively insists sex is a sterile activity that need not involve commitment or anything related to baby-making, at least those two look the part.”

Then the other part of me (the non-cynical third) wonders whether I should just give up and join the Amish. It’s dashed tempting.