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There are any number of females who can be found on the membership rolls of NOW or in the audience at Sandra Fluke speeches or raising funds for Hillary Clinton’s 2016 campaign who make my skin crawl. They are the creatures whose major concern isn’t equality in education, equality of opportunity in the workplace, or protection of children from sexual predators. Instead, the issue that motivates them to get out of bed in the morning is abortion on demand.

To me, they have less in common with actual women than they do with those zombies who populate horror movies and spend all their time lurching across the countryside seeking food in the form of human brains.

They are the ogres who insist that an embryo is no more than a part of the body that women should be free to do with as they please. Pushed to the wall, they will liken it to a wart. Women don’t need anyone’s approval to have a wart removed, they say, so why should it be any different when it comes to what they regard as just another bodily blemish?

This is the sort of vile pabulum that’s been spoon-fed to young women for the past 40 years by the likes of Gloria Steinem, Nancy Pelosi, Susan Sarandon and Mrs. Clinton. Even if you get past the notion that after all the advances in contraception and all the school hours devoted to sex education, anyone who is still dumb enough to get pregnant by accident should be turned into mulch, the fact remains that an embryo no more resembles a wart than a baby resembles a battleship.

For one thing, nobody ever threw a party to celebrate a wart. Nobody ever painted a room blue or pink because a wart was expected. And nobody ever named a wart after a beloved parent or grandparent.

If anyone deserves to be compared to a wart, it’s the men and women who spew this garbage.

In my heart, I approve of term limits. But in my head, I know that they do not solve the problem that compels people to call for them. Here in California, the only result of term limits is that it forces career politicians to keep swapping jobs. As a result, state assemblymen become state senators, state senators become congressmen or lieutenant governors or mayors, but in the end, it’s the same crew of parasites with their snouts in the public trough.

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When it comes to Congress, term limits would make even less difference because the biggest problem isn’t with the politicians, but with the electorate. Does anyone actually believe that if the likes of Maxine Waters, Henry Waxman and Charley Rangel were forced to retire, they’d be replaced by better people? No chance. The dummies in their districts would simply elect younger versions of the louts they’ve been electing for the past 30 or 40 years.

A reader, George Schiele, sent me an email pointing out that when Ariel Castro was arrested for keeping three women captive for 10 years, the media covered it non-stop for weeks on end. But when the Castro brothers hold millions of people captive for 50 years, the media not only doesn’t mention it, but the members of the Congressional Black Caucus return from an island junket singing Cuba’s praises.

A recent study of the industrialized nations found that young American adults score near the bottom when it comes to math, science and literacy. That came as no big surprise to the folks doing the study and even less of a surprise to me. What did throw them, however, was that middle-age Americans only did slightly better. That’s because they actually regarded them as “the best-educated generation ever.”

To my way of thinking, they aren’t even close. But, cynic that I am, I expect the folks who did the study are themselves middle-age Americans. Hardly anybody who has gone through the public education system since 1960 is part of a well-educated generation. As proof, you only need to take a look at Obama. He is a prime example of the shoddy product we’ve been turning out – a know-nothing with a colossal amount of ego.

Obama is a product of an education system that was primarily concerned with over-inflating children with the gas known as self-esteem. The end result is not brilliance, but narcissism. That is why even when announcing that Osama bin Laden had been killed, he used “I” and “me” so often, you’d have thought he had personally led the Navy SEALs out of the helicopters and into the villa.

He even had the chutzpah to base our nation’s foreign policy not on military might, but on his magnetic personality and his personal powers of persuasion.

When King Canute ordered the ocean tide to stop, legend has it that he meant to demonstrate to one and all that he was only a mortal, and not God. When Obama vowed to lower the level of the oceans, his intention was the opposite.

Finally, Obama, who can’t keep his nose out of any controversy, so long as he thinks it will play well with his infantile base, let it be known that he thinks the Washington football franchise should no longer call itself the Redskins because, I suppose, there are three or four Indians who claim to be personally offended.

If I owned the Redskins, I would tell the schmuck in the Oval Office that I’ll change the team’s name when he changes his because I am personally offended that the president of the United States is named Barack Hussein Obama.

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