Bear
Bear

Hey, ladies. Viagra here.

I've got the lights turned down low, and I've put on a Commodores record. I've opened a box of wine, and I've laid out my best velvet pajamas. I'm talking in my smoothest voice, and I've drawn a bath. Well, actually two baths in the old cast-iron tubs I have out on the back deck. Let's just slip on in and relax and watch the sunset.

We need to talk.

I'm sure you've heard by now that we have a sexy new Supreme Court justice, and it's a fair bet that Roe vs. Wade will be overturned. If you ever find yourself in this saddest of situations, you'll probably have to get your abortion from the same guy who sells weed to your boyfriend. I believe his name is Todd and he knows a guy who knows a guy. Good luck with that.

You might be asking yourself why your reproductive rights are constantly in peril. Why the Texas Legislature shut down most of the abortion clinics along the border, one of the poorest parts of the state. Why they do that under the pretense of "protecting women," yet those same people are against any sort of social assistance whatsoever.

You might also be asking yourself why birth control pills and whether your employer has to cover them are such controversial issues even though I'm totally covered by health insurance. When a congressional panel on birth control is convened, why is it all men? Even I'm confused about that one, baby.


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You might be asking yourself why middle-aged men on cable news can say things like women should just keep an aspirin between their knees if they want birth control, and why those men aren't tarred and feathered.

You might be asking yourself why those people who are for "protecting women" are against exceptions to their draconian abortion laws in the case of rape or incest. Maybe they feel like when life gives you rape, make rapenade. That seems kind of mean, even for Republicans.

I know it sounds like I have answers for you, girl. But to be honest, I just got really confused. Truth be told, I don't even want to listen to the Commodores anymore. I'm turning on the lights, and my smooth voice is now stuttering and unsure of itself.

I'm suddenly wracked with guilt because I'm a boner pill, for Christ's sake. Jesus, how is it OK that I'm on every commercial break, but it's still a controversy whether a woman can go into a medical building and get a medical procedure conducted by a medical doctor. Man, that's some cold shit.

I'm suddenly flaccid. I don't feel sexy at all. I'm having the realization that if men got pregnant, there'd be abortion clinics at the front of every Walmart Supercenter, wedged in between the optometrist and the McDonalds.

I can't live with this hypocrisy. I'm ending it all. Auf Wiedersehen. Goodbye, cruel world!

Read more Bear: coloradodaily.com/columnists. Stalk him: twitter.com/johnbearwithme