Radio Free North Hollywood

I don’t give a damn at what point babies are babies, I say if you got something in you, you got the right to take it out. If it lives, put it in an orphanage. If it dies, well then. The corollary to this — and the point where abortion anti-advocates prove themselves assholes — is that if it cannot survive outside the body, it still looks like a baby, and it’s a pure kindness to end its suffering without making the mother suffer even more. I have a chart that demonstrates this if you’re confused.

The salient point is that nobody can make you an incubator if you don’t want to be. Laws stop at the skin (or at least they should).

What I reeeeealy want to do is give the technology another couple years to get here, until we get to the point where a baby can be implanted and survive in the GI tract for at least a little while, regardless of whether the GI tract is male or female. Apparently it’s quite possible and they just haven’t made it practical yet. And then I want to find a fat asshole senator from a state where they made abortion illegal in cases of rape, and give him a roofie and inject that shit in his fat gut, and tell him, it doesn’t matter that somebody implanted this thing in you in the most horrific and disrespectful manner possible, it’s a baby and you have to carry it.

The law will be clear.

I will be charged with rape or something, and since this is a southern state that’s only a year or two with time off for good behavior. I’ll probably get out before that shitbird brings the baby to term. And I’ll spend that whole time laughing.

So I think I strained my Tibialis posterior where it inserts onto metatarsal IV. How did that happen, you ask, and also what does that even mean?

Well, I kicked a wrought iron chair. Why they even ever invented wrought iron chairs I do not know — it must have been for a more shoe-wearing age. I intend to make that chair’s legs cardboard-shod before the moon sets this eve.

And what does that mean? That means I kicked a big bar of iron at full speed with my fourth toe, which it bent up very precisely and injured precisely one ligament, in the deepest part of my foot. Basically it’s the part that holds up the top of the arch of my foot. So if I place my foot firmly or try to push up off the front of my foot I am in a lot of trouble. Since it felt like a tear, a lot of trouble.

I got on it right away with lots of ice and arnica, and it wasn’t the worst tear, but man, it felt like a tear. A shocking new experience. A very precisely disabling injury, too. Don’t know what I’m going to do for work for a few days.

If you ever wanted a commission, now would be an excellent time. As it is I think I’ll just work on painting and Cloudhopper and War on Christmas.