Grilling Akin

     Boys, we've gotta have a talk. I know these are words that turn your scrotums into prunes, but this time I'm not kidding: We have a serious problem.

     I have  a few "house rules" if you will for the men in my orbit:

          1. You have to respect women, mainly me
          2. I'm not your mommie (unless we're talking about my son), and
          3. You can have an opinion on abortion when you can have a baby

     I have no idea what the rules may be for the women in Missouri Congressman
Todd Akin's life--nor of those in the throngs of (pick your goofy label) his fellow travelers in stupidity, but I do know what it takes to have a decent relationship with another person. It takes respect. And while perfection is never a goal nor an option, I can say that hubby and I have managed 30 years this month of being reasonable and mostly respectful.

     I haven't had the chance to talk with him about this issue, but I know exactly what he'd say: "Idiot!" And I hope that Akin and my husband never have to face the reality of living with the horror of a loved one's "legitimate rape". It's easy to dismiss--in Akin's case--the question whenever it doesn't apply to our dear ones, as you'll no doubt recall from Michael Dukakis' answer to the question in a debate.

     But let's set aside the painful lack of empathy implied in Mr. Akin's (and those of his stripe's) litany and just concern ourselves with his ignorance. The man claims he actually thinks that women's hoo-hoos have an off switch. I suppose when you don't "just lay back and enjoy it" the "juices don't flow" in such a way that the egg gets the idea to make nice with an incoming onslaught of sperm. Dear god. Dear science! Oh, and REALLY?! Tell that fanciful notion to the 32,000 women who get pregnant from rape each year in our country. Dumb ass fallible eggs? I think not.

     And when we press beyond the meanness and the ignorance, we come to the crappy characteristic of pious baloney righteousness that pisses me off no end about this entire episode: Put plainly, who gives you the futher mucking right to dictate your brand of garbage to any woman, much less a woman going through the worst thing likely ever to happen to her which then leaves her with a new horror upon discovering the legacy of her assault? What a dick!

     Mr. Akin, you are an imbecile who obviously feels that women are to be regulated in a way you wouldn't think of bringing imposition to, say, corporations or Wall Street bankers. You would have women who aren't intelligent enough to make a choice raise a child. And you wouldn't stop at blaming the victim (remember that word, "legitimate") or her faulty magic plumbing, you would then punish her into reliving the vile experience every day for the rest of her life by forcing her to give birth and insisting upon her dearly cherishing this ill-gotten child. Do you also counsel our wounded warriors that they should relish in their wounds? Do you ask survivors to go to the roadside scene of their family's peril to give thanks for their accidental deaths?

     Can't you just see Mr. Akin giving those women or the women in his life an employee evaluation to insure that they are indeed being good mothers. I mean it's obvious, at least to Akin and his fellow Cro-magnons, that we need a man to show us the way. (And if there's no man around of course the government should step in--literally--with their magic transvaginal wands to check our progress.) Funny, I don't hear of any anal probes for a Viagra prescription, that is unless the little green men have stockpiled all the little blue pills.

     And of course if every egg is sacred, then so must be every sperm. No strangling the skin flute for you, Congressman Akin. No sex without baby-making either. How many kids do you have, by the way? And how long have you been married...

     As I said at the outset, I have no knowledge of the rules--if any--imposed by the women in Todd Akin's life, but I do offer up a suggestion. If I were to have an abandoned luncheonette somewhere and found myself without a fry cook, I would want to interview grill masters who had an intimate knowledge of eggs. You do go through a lot of eggs in a diner, you know. And ladies, if he doesn't know shit about the eggs, for science's sake, keep him away from your firey, hot grill!