Victory Soap v. 2.0

I find it so reassuring when Our Dear Democratic, Progressive, Tolerant, And Did I Mention Democratic? Leaders drop their masks and admit that they think that no woman is fully human unless she has had a man put his seed in her and borne his spawn.

You know, I get sick of hearing about things too. Kathy Shaidle is sick of hearing about Nature Nature Nature (damn, I think, looking at my favorite color combination that I happened to wear today -- oh well, I'm an autumn, so those colors look good on me). I am sick of hearing about the wonders of childbirthing and how we-uns should all get in the stirrups and shoot five or six out for the cause of Fambly, and if we don't we are selfish old shrews who will destroy Western Civilization and the Muslims and their twenty children per wife households will take over the world. Never mind that Western Civ is currently too weak-willed to do what it really takes to save itself* -- it might upset The Chillllldren™! Hey, "Senator" Boxer, and all the rest of you waving your stretched-out-from-all-the-kids love canals in my face as proof of your moral superiority, you know what you can do? You can all suck on my shrivelled-up, dusty, unused spinster twat.

*Hint: large explosive devices, various objects both sharp and blunt, and a complete shutdown of immigration from certain countries as well as complete deportation of certain foreign nationals (the nice and the not-so-nice both -- it's too bad, but haven't you heard we're in a war?), are all involved.

Update: I've never seen all of Rosemary's Baby (Mia Farrow gives me hives) or It Lives! -- though it makes me think of Florence King's parody horror-movie plot: Umbilicus Rex, about a fetus that eats up his father's penis during intercourse. It's true that the idea of growing a new life inside me and all of that held zero appeal for me, but that's because I've never wanted children. Not because I thought they'd break all my things or cause me emotional pain, but because I just never had any interest in family life. I always really did prefer my own company to that of any other person, though I had friends I liked well enough. But when the parents had driven them home I always did feel that bit of relief that I was alone with myself and my books and my notepads full of very bad fantasy stories again. I suppose I had observed that having children meant never getting to be alone, but this was only the occasion for me to be relieved that I didn't want to have any kids. As for romance, the precursor to any child-making activities, I had very little interest in that as well. The Seventies did have something to do with that -- who would want to date any of the smarmy, greasy creeps that men had mostly become in the Me Decade? Not me.

Incidentally, I did watch Mary Tyler Moore and Police Woman, but despite the fact that both shows portrayed single career women, they also showed these women doing the conventional agonizing about their relationships, or lack of them, with men. It was always assumed that one day Mare would get married, quit her job at the station, and have a passel of kids in a nice Minneapolis suburb -- she was that kind of character. Pepper's future was a little harder to place, but maybe that was because Angie Dickinson looked like one of those women who smelled like cigarette smoke no matter how much they bathed and perfumed themselves. I decided that she would quit (or be forced out of) the force when her secret drinking became not-so-secret, and end up either joining AA and getting a PI license (and a new show, more noir than Police Woman), or face down in a ditch somewhere in Los Angeles clutching an empty flask of Gilbey's vodka.

PS: I watched Cat On A Hot Tin Roof all the way to the end and realized that no one ever talked about the real reason Maggie (Elizabeth Taylor's character) was so antsy in the pantsy: she didn't just want to have sex, she wanted to have her husband's children. Her "no-neck monsters!" comment was a slap at her sister-in-law, who had after all had a hand in turning her children into brats. So all this is to say: I don't have anything against children either, it's the parents I can't stand.