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Arm the embryos

Armed embryos could protect themselves from abortion doctors and solve the abortion epidemic in America.

The logistics would be tricky, but once a girl becomes a woman, doctors could affix a holster and a gun to the inside of her uterus. If the woman ever becomes pregnant, the embryo would have resources with which to prevent removal.

We’d still have to figure out a way to train the baby to replace the gun in the holster before it makes its debut. However, if the gun comes out with the baby, doctors could put it back in the holster since everything would be dilated and all.

Once the baby was cleaned up and they put that cute knit cap on its head, they could issue it a newborn-sized side arm.

If I could figure out how to teach a uterus to use a gun, we could put an end to rape, as well. We’d have to put guns in uteruses much earlier, but a uterus has no trigger finger, and that’s the biggest problem…

I wish I was brilliant. I wish I could craft some words that could heal the hurting and chastise the stupid. I can’t. I’m tapped out.

I have cried and prayed and had stern words with the God of my understanding. I have listened and read and heard stuff that broke my heart even more. I’ve even read and heard stuff only marginally less stupid than my tongue-in-cheek introduction.

I could rant, but that doesn’t do any good. All I have this week is this story some very wise people I hang out with told one time when I was wrestling with a terrible situation:

A man got up one morning and got ready for work. He lived close enough to his job that he could walk.

He started down the street he started down every morning, but before he went 100 steps, he fell into a deep hole. He was more scared than hurt, and it took him quite a while to crawl out. He was nearly late for work.

The next day, the man got up and got ready. He walked down the same street as the day before. He had forgotten about the hole, and fell in it again. This time, he wrenched his knee pretty good, but he climbed out quickly and got to work on time.

When he got home that evening, the man wrote himself a note and taped it on the inside of his front door. “Watch out for the hole,” the note said.

The next day, the man left his house with the note clutched in his hand. As he approached the hole in the street, a car horn honked loudly and he turned to look in the direction of the horn. He fell into the hole. This time he was late for work.

The next day, the man tried jumping over the hole; he fell in. The day after that, he tried taking a running jump; he fell in. The day after that, he tried creeping around the edge of the hole, but the hole was wide and the edge crumbled; he fell in the hole again.

The man tried everything he could think of to get over or around the hole. No matter what he tried, he ended up in the same hole every day.

The man’s boss, a wise grandmotherly woman, had to rebuke him for being late to work so many times. He told her the harrowing tale of his daily battle with the hole. He described in great detail all of the things he had tried, and he threw himself on her mercy.

His boss, who had listened to his story in silence, leaned back in her chair and looked off into a distance that was only in her mind.

“Well,” she said after a few minutes deep in thought, “It sounds to me like you have tried everything you could think of, but there is one thing you haven’t tried.”

“What is it,” said the man. “I’ll try anything.”

That’s when his boss smiled and said, “You could try taking another way to work.”

P. S.

I’m taking Christmas week off…being a fat guy with a white beard, I’m busy as Hell this time of year. I also am taking the week of New Year off. May you and yours have a beautiful whatever you celebrate, and I’ll see you next year.

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