Pro-choice was, at one time, a way of life for me. It wasn’t necessarily anything pertaining to abortion specifically, but rather a general lackadaisical approach to things in general. Perfectly happy to “la-de-da” my way through this existence, unaffected by any seriousness, and rarely taking sides, I was the Sweden of teenagers – minus ABBA and the ability to stand up on skis.
Like any average 18-year-old in the early ’80s, I thought that if it didn’t happen right in front of my face or in Rolling Stone Magazine, it didn’t matter. Cold War threats, the 10th anniversary of Roe v. Wade and supply-side economics all took a back seat to making girls invent creative ways to turn me down, and serious roundtable discussions with friends over whether or not David Lee Roth would ever rejoin Van Halen. I was a senior fellow in the world’s un-thinkiest think tank.
A couple of decades and four kids later, I’ve become a staunch pro-lifer, in part thanks to witnessing a previous “Abortapalooza” rally in D.C. over 10 years ago. This year’s march was a nice refresher course to remind me that I chose the right road.
It’s been over a week since pro-abortionists and anti-Bushers from far and wide converged on the D.C. Mall for what organizers called the “March for Women’s Lives.” I’m still having trouble digesting what I saw and heard. My first instinct was to call in a priest to perform an exorcism on my television, but I fear there’s much more to come.
At the rally, the colors and attitude sported by the crowd, which numbered in the high hundreds of thousands, gave a good indication of what would be conceived if hot pink neon mated with a Joni Mitchell song. The nature of the get-together made it come across like an angry tailgate party preceding a game where the losers are predetermined and killed before they get a chance to take the field.
The event was headlined by Hillary Clinton, who I half expected to see wearing a “If abortions are outlawed, only outlaws will be allowed to screw around with my husband” T-shirt. The usual cast of “center square” level celebrity characters were in attendance, along with many politicians, including Madeline Albright, who is the human equivalent of a car going 40 mph in the freeway passing lane with the turn signal forever blinking.
Listening to speakers at the pro-abortion rally call the killing of babies “reproductive freedom,” “pro-choice” and “planned family management” would have been comical, if it weren’t so tragic. Had these people done public-relations work for the Khmer Rouge, the most harsh sounding “killing fields” would have been renamed a much more pleasant “Pol Pot gardens” or “meadows of preference.”
In addition to the “Suzie Sunshine” approach to renaming fetal genocide – so it doesn’t sound so bad on the “schedule of events” marquee in front of the aromatherapy tent – the radical feminist illogic in their position on abortion carries over into their business acumen, or lack thereof.
Participants at “Abortapalooza” made it clear they care about money, since much of the discussion revolved around how to keep our hands off their bodies, and their hands on our wallets. They also know that one way to get more money is to recruit new members into their organizations.
Roughly half of the babies these rally feminists support putting on the fast track to the trash can are females. In other words, they’re for the killing of potential future members. What a hideously inhumane self-imposed bear market. This is like the YMCA courting new members by tying bricks to visitors before they get into the pool.
Other verbal follies were abundant. Some of the more Hacky-Sack-headed celebrities stressed the importance and a desire for their children to grow up in a world where “reproductive rights” are commonplace, and only “planned and wanted” people exist. If this is ever the case, they’ll be able to hold their next rally in a phone booth.
Some speakers brought their kids up on stage with them. What a great message to put into the head of your child. “Of course you’re special to me … I let you live to full term, didn’t I?”
Nothing says “I love you” to somebody like not killing them.
Watching the rally on television, I started thinking that maybe, somewhere out there, a young, indifferent person, just like I was, may have happened upon C-Span that day and become horrified into a pro-life position. That’s one thing for which we may owe the “Abortapalooza” participants a debt of gratitude.