Moonbats on the hoof

I was out in my front yard last night, bringing in another bumper crop of dandelion greens for the guinea pig when two young ladies walked up my driveway. The one in front had unnaturally black hair and a demure ring in her right nostril. Her companion was wearing a St. Benedict’s sweatshirt. Overall their attire suggested they might be homeless, or perhaps trying to raise money for a latte. Then I noticed the clipboard. Ah, a petition!

I had a hunch I probably wouldn’t go along with whatever they were supporting, but I smiled pleasantly because that’s what I do. They were also very sweet in demeanor. The first young lady informed me that they were in my neighborhood on behalf of NARAL to show support for protecting women’s rights. “Do you support women’s rights?” she asked me.

“Indeed I do,” I said. “Just not in the way that your group goes about it.”

“Do you mean you don’t think asking people to sign petitions is a good idea?”

“No,” I said, still smiling pleasantly. “I mean I support the rights of all women, including the unborn ones.”

There was a bit of a pause as she cogitated my statement. Ding! “Oh, you’re not pro-choice then,” she said.

“Choose life,” I said, still smiling. They thanked me and went off. I went in the house where Faith was waiting.

“What did they want?” she asked. I told her.

“Did you play with her mind like it was a drunk kitten?” she asked.

Sigh. “You know me so well.”

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