We Were Lied To About Abortion. We Have to Stop

(A very serious one about abortion)

 

Oh little baby, you’ll never cry, nor will you hear a sweet lullabye. 

Oh unborn child, if you only knew just what your momma was plannin’ to do.

You’re still a-clingin’ to the tree of life, but soon you’ll be cut off before you get ripe.

When I was a senior at Norman High School, in 1974, I remember happily buying the new Seals & Crofts album, then getting really angry at the lyrics to the cover song.

It was the year after the Supreme Court ruled on Roe v. Wade, five years after Woodstock’s “sex, drugs and rock’n’roll”, and six years after Pope Paul VI released his encyclical Humanae Vitae (Of Human Life).

I was a heathen and a virgin.

The LAST thing I wanted was some “anti-abortion” musicians moralizing their way into my bedroom.

Turns out, nobody else did either.

We were Baby Boomers, and it was all about us, not some unborn child.

Sadly, that sweet song could do precious little to hold back the abortion tsunami.

So now, 42 years after Roe v Wade, these are the *facts:

  • more than 77 million babies have been aborted in America
  • so far this year, 646,283 babies have been aborted in the land of free and the home of the brave
  • 193,941 of these babies were aborted by Planned Parenthood, America’s biggest abortionist
  • Recently, Planned Parenthood managers were caught sipping wine and talking about “crushing above and below” so organs from aborted babies could be harvested and sold
  • Planned Parenthood apologized for a manager’s “tone”
  • The Senate fell three votes short of defunding Planned Parenthood

Lord Have Mercy

All of this has made me ask, Dear Lord, how did we get to this point?

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Join the Army and See the World… or Buy a Cute Little Camper Van in New Zealand!

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*What could possibly go wrong?

The Missus and I need a big house so we both can have our own space.

And in the land of semi-retirement, you watch your money pretty closely.

So, of course, we just bought a little camper van.

In our defense, it’s not really a camper van.

Certainly not like the big one that two families squished into 20 years ago to tour all of New Zealand.

That one had eight berths and a stove and fridge and pooper and shower.

That kind if serious camper van now rents for about $400 per day.

Which poses a dilemma.

How do you go about seeing the most beautiful country in the world without going bankrupt?

The answer came last week from above, or at least the internet, when I spotted the cutest little pop-up camper van you ever did see.

A Mazda Bongo Friendee.

How could that not be a thing of happy destiny?

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Hellooooo Grown Up Musician Son, Let’s Talk Retail

headphones-clip-art-headphones-clip-art-7

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Don’t mind my 26-year-old musician son as he grumpily digs through the mall trash bin.

He is not foraging for food, like many starving musicians.

He is looking for the plastic packaging that he shredded about 30 minutes ago to get to his new headphones.

Why?

Because we have just had the following Father-Son chat at the mall coffee shop, after Junior strolled up holding new headphones .

Dad: “Heh, I bought some of those headphones.  The look cool, but they really suck.”

Grumpy Son: “They so do!”

Dad: “Take them back. Just put them inside the packaging, and take them back.”

Grumpy Son: “I threw it away.”

Dad: <Rolling eyes> “Seriously? If I had a dollar for every time we have had this conversation about packaging. And receipts…”

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The Eccentric Titirangi Chicken Woman

I love eccentric people, especially if they have chickens.

And don’t live next door.

Hence, I love going to the physiotherapist, to have my head rotated and get an update on the Titirangi Chicken Situation.

(Yes, I shot that seven-second video last year!)

It seems that the Council — after six months of meetings and complaints and strategies and tactics and skulduggery and general Titirangi weirdness — finally hauled away approximately 28 illegal chickens.

Now, before all you pinko-lefty-chicken-huggers get all moisty-eyed about the poor, dear chickens, you need to understand that:

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Shaky Dog Love

lingtop

Cracktop Computing

I guess I need to get used to the seizures.

The Crack Puppy would not settle next to my leg last night, as we Facebooked, watched TV and read about Salvation History.

Then she raised up her front end and went rigid.

She was seizuring again.

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BaconPalooza — Our Urgent Call For Way More Bacon Holidays

Bacon-Flag

We are well past time for new National Public Holidays honoring bacon.

And we don’t mean like the lame-o Dec. 30 alleged “Bacon Day” that nobody knows about.

We’re talking about the need for major, urgent changes to the United States of America’s Public Holidays.

And it’s no harder than adding bacon to a cheeseburger.  Here are our ideas:

Day                                                                        Date     

  • New Year’s Bacon Day                                 January 1
  • Martin Luther King Day                              January 19
  • Presidents National Bacon Day                 3rd Monday in Febr
  • Memorial Day                                               May 25
  • Bacon Independence Day                          July 4
  • Labor Day                                                     1st Monday in Sept.
  • Crispy Columbus Bacon Day                    2nd Monday of Oct.
  • Bacon for Veterans Day                             November 11
  • Thanksgiving (for Bacon Day)                 4th Thursday in Nov.
  • Day after Bacon Thanksgiving                 4th Friday in Nov.
  • Christmas Day                                             December 25

How will these MUCH IMPROVED holidays be celebrated?

We’re so glad you asked.

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Do You HEAR Me Dripping Adrenaline?

Tasmanian Devil

It’s late.

I’m relaxing in the recliner.

Reading. Sort of. Zzzzzzzz.

Hearing aids are out.

Because I do not want to be disturbed.

Happy sigh.

But then I hear something disturbing.

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