Teach Your Kids To Protest; Not A Camel Toe Story

 

So. It’s been an interesting week and it’s only Tuesday. The commenter not named Theo has been commenting like crazy on my and several of my buddies’ blogs, and he has actually started making some points. Stan-Ann says he’s going to fire-up his own site and post some of his sentiments and let us take shots at him.

Doing that is the only way to convince me he/she isn’t Theo.

Then there’s my buddy BJ from over to the Dumb Perignon. BJ might be one of the smartest guys I know. And just like almost every other friend I put on my Bloggie Roller, he’s already changing his shit around. He’s talking cryptic language about changing formats and shit, but then he says he’ll give us a link. I have no fucking idea what he’s saying and I’m glad I’m visiting up to Tennessee next month so I can get him to explain this stuff to me.

And yesterday I got to feeling frisky, so I loaded up the Squirt, Yoda and Honor the cat and we headed over to the Planned Parenthood place on Anderson Mill. It’s just off US 183, which is called Research Blvd. through there. It was named Research Blvd. because IBM and 3M had big research facilities there. But those facilities are gone—moved out years ago—so I’m calling it US 183.

Like I said, I was feeling frisky and felt like fucking with Catholic anti-abortion lady. I’ve had anti-anti-abortion sandwich boards for several years and I like to wear them as I mingle among the single anti’s in attendance at Planned Parenthood. My current favorite says”I’m an abortion and I’m OK” on the front, and on the back it says “FUCK RICK PERRY!”[.]

I had little halters made for the dogs that advertise Carta Blanca beer in four languages—English, Spanish, French and Chinese. The fucking cat won’t wear one. And answer me this. Why does advertise not have a z in it, like this “advertize”[?] That, dear friends, is a z-word if ever there was one.

When we got to our destination, Catholic anti-abortion lady wasn’t there, but there was a blond lady with her two kids, an older guy who I think might have escaped from the Alzheimer’s Home a couple miles away, and this solitary woman who simply stood there. This lady stood, facing the road, and stared.

She was maybe 5′ 7” tall, she was quite thin and had long, stringy black hair and an ashen skin tone. She didn’t hold a sign or say anything, she just stood there and stared blankly at traffic. When we first walked up to the protesters, I thought somebody had propped-up a cadaver or a wax figure. But when I got close I could see that she was breathing and twitching. Tiny muscle spasms that raked her body in little waves.

Twitches moved across her face—up and down and sideways and in circles. I wish I could do that. There was a man I met over to the loony bin during one of my incarcerations there who could do the same thing. Semi-comatose Carl was his name, and Thorazine was his game. Old SCC, we called him SCC, was a hoot. He liked us to dress him up like a manikin for holidays and sporting events and shit.

At least I think he liked it. He never complained.

Anyway, so without Catholic anti-abortion lady there, I had nobody to engage in angry banter. CAB lady hates my guts and gets angry at the thought of me. This I know as she has told me so, and often. Our encounters always draw crowds and often attract officers of the law. But yesterday, I couldn’t get any of the others to engage me. The mother would turn her back each time I approached, huddling her children close at her feet. The old geezer kept asking if I was Bob.

And the cadaver lady just stared.

“I’m an abortion and I’m OK!” I shouted as I passed the animals.

“Questa mucca morde merda, Senor Mooner,” Squirt remarked to me as we passed each other on the next circular pass. I like to have the animals walk in clockwise circles and I walk counter-wise and we like to chant each time we meet. “Ou’ diable est Catholique dame anti-avortement?” Squirt added.

“I don’t know where the Catholic lady is, kiddo, and you’re right. This does suck cow patties.”

I loaded us up after less than an hour’s protesting and headed to the house. Everybody was grumbling about the wasted protesting efforts. “Look, guys, protesting is all about the effort,” I told them. “If your heart is in the right place, any effort goes un-wasted. Maybe we’ll go down to march with the Take Back folks later this week.”

I think one of the important things I can do as a parent is teach responsible protesting. Which reminds me. My very first protest was when Mother tried to get me to wear white buck leather shoes to school in third grade. She found a pair of those ugly marching band shoes on sale at the Payless or some fucking place, and tried to get me to wear them.

“I’d rather go to school dressed as a girl,” I instructed Mother and Gram as the former tried to put those ugly-ass shoes on my feet while the latter tried to hold me down.

I liked the way the wind blew up and under my dress, and dressing like a girl made it really easy to shoot a moon. Right thumb in the waistband of my frilly lace panties, back hem of my size ten, A-line halter dress quickly hoisted with the left hand. No buttons or belts to screw with, and no jeans slipping to your ankles and tripping you.

I wonder what my dress size is now?

Like I say, it’s already been an interesting week. Manana, y’all.

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13 Responses to “Teach Your Kids To Protest; Not A Camel Toe Story”

  1. bj says:

    Isn’t it always the most zealous PRO-lifers, who claim to love their Lord and Savior, that are the meanest and most hateful? Like C.A-A.L.? Good On Ya’! for teaching you children to take/make a stand! Dunno if you’ve heard much Richard Jeni (R.I.P) but he does a bit on the talking-outta-both-sides-of-their-mouths crew that is High-Larry-Us. And…. prolly my next post. heh
    Your “I’m An Abortion, And I’m OK” slogan could catch on, you a bid’ness man, ain’tcha? The GOP might use that slogan …. as it seems to describe MOST of their current contenders for Preznit.
    Remember that LIST I was making for my Christmas gifts? Add a pitcher o’ YOU wearin’ THAT dress! Goood-NESS! OH! almost forgot ….. I kinda MISS our circle jerk me n you n Squatty had before SAD …. but Stan’s gotta good MIND on his/her shoulders … maybe he/she wouldn’t mind screamin’ insults at the three of us while we … uhh …. well you know. I’m open to tryin’ new shit ……

  2. squatlo says:

    Wait… what? Circle jerkin’? I think not. Heard about a guy who fell for that one in junior high. Lights went out, everyone was supposed to be whacking away, and then the lights came on and he was the only one strokin’.
    Hounded him for years, they say.

    I’ll believe this troll has his own blog (place to shit) when I see it, Mooner. That’ll happen the same day pigs fly or you and me practice “tribbin'” for youtube. Whatever thoughtful points he might have to offer have been overwhelmed by his hateful diatribes. Banned at my place, unless he comes to visit. Been invited, and everything.

    BJ likes to change the format on his blog site from time to time, to keep it fresh. The title changes, the background pic changes, and maybe he spells without using phonics from the Hillbillies, but the message is always progressive and on time. You’ll like whatever Dumb Perignon morphs into.

    We had a power surge, then power failure this AM (five times in a minute) and I wasn’t able to shut down the computer in time. Looks like the hard drive is corrupted, might have to be wiped. Glad I have my photos on external hard drives, but still lose a lot of shit I didn’t back up if that comes to pass. In the meantime, trying to work with my lovely wife’s laptop, and it requires fifteen or twenty fingers for everything I usually do with one hand and a mouse. Heavy fucking sigh…

  3. stanley ann dunham says:

    squatlo is very irritable this time of month, he’s spotting and his breasts are swollen and tender…… i guess i’m banned from his website, though I don’t post anything there that I haven’t posted at mooners or bj’s place. one man’s normal conversation is another man’s screaming, hateful, homophobic, vile right wing, tea-bagging rhetoric. (there’s a job somewhere at msnbc for you squatlo.) i wear the “being banned” from squatlo’s site as a badge of honor. given his site stats i’d say i’m “one of the 99%”

    if you 3 want to be in daisy-chain, that’s your business. they can now do it in the military without being court-marshalled, so who am i to judge???

  4. Lucky you, you got to wear a dress and frilly underwear.

    I had to wear plaid fucking Bell Bottoms because they were on sale at JC Penney’s, for a damn good reason.
    Plaid, really?

    I got teased unmercifully.

    I actually found a pair of those most hated things twenty years later at my Grannies house and promptly took them out to the burn barrel and set them on fire least there be any evidence.

  5. stanley ann dunham says:

    @busted: you really passed up an opportunity to start a retro trend fad by wearing those, i would have stayed far away from biker bars in them though.

  6. squatlo says:

    C’mon back, SAD, that last line about needin’ cross wood was priceless. Seriously. That was fucking funny…

  7. bj says:

    That “Surprise’ circle jerk from JR high a PERSONAL experience Squatty? DISH on the details, Bubbah!

    Stan I saw Squatlo just the other day and his breasts didn’t feel swollen and tender to me. ‘Course after copping a feel like that I never was afforded the oportunity to check and see if he was spotting. And for GOD’S SAKE …. if you use the werd MENSTRUATE …. please fuckin’ spell it correctly. I tossed muh cookies the other day after Rec went ON and ON about bleedin’ VAGINAS!

    Hey Knucks! I STILL have a pair of what they used to call BIG Bells bell bottoms in the attick someplace that are wide blue and white prison striped…. might fit skinny ass Paris Hilton … but not me!

  8. admin says:

    BJ. Sorry I don’t have any pics of the dress. The Richard Jeni vid is apt for today’s times. Something wrong with every side. So many business opportunities and so little time.

    Squat. Power surges are a giant pain in the ass. So are laptops. I anxiously await Stan-Ann’s website. Proof/pudding.

    Stan-Ann. No reply requested.

    Busted Knucks. Regretably I had a pair of those pants as well. Mine were made of Army-green duck canvas and I sounded like I was rubbing sandpaper sheets together as I walked. I “accidently” tore the knees out, and Mother put blue iron-on patches over the holes and made me wear them. It’s a wonder I’m not all fucked up.

    Stan-Ann. He’d want to stay away from gay bars as well, and discos. OK, and C&W honky tonks too. Those pants would be offensive in general.

    Squat. “Needin cross wood”?

    BJ. My breasts are swollen and tender too. And I’m getting cranky for no visible reason. Maybe I need to go see if I’m spotting.

  9. bj says:

    Well Damn! I was hoping you had a photo of …. HEY! WE CAN SHOP WHILE YER HERE!! And I got a Camera! ….

  10. admin says:

    BJ. I’ll go over to Ingrid’s Hot Wax Emporium and get myself all prepped. You prefer “Night on Bald Mountain” or a landing strip?

  11. stanley ann dunham says:

    Mooner said: “BJ. I’ll go over to Ingrid’s Hot Wax Emporium and get myself all prepped. You prefer “Night on Bald Mountain” or a landing strip?”

    Stan Ann: mooner, i have always heard that you can’t grow “grass” on a race track……

  12. squatlo says:

    This is getting too damn twisted for my ass…

  13. admin says:

    Stan-Ann. They race on the long turf all over Europe.

    Squat. Deep breaths, brother. Deeeep breathhhhhhhs.

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