My friend had an abortion in Holland. She’s hot, so my initial reaction after she told me was to go home and masturbate to the thought of popping off an unprotected nut in her. But after that, I started thinking about socialism.
Because the whole story started out with this horror– there was some painful complication; she’d had to be hospitalized for weeks after, and it would have been a nightmare for this broke, wayward girl who is about as organized in life as any good looking unemployed actress in her twenties– it would have been a nightmare, except everything was taken care of and free. There was no bill at the end of this abortion and then internal bleeding and weeks of inpatient care and then follow up home visits and friendly helpful people telling her what the next step would be at every part of the process. It was all free, and the people helping her out, who were employed by the government, were actually knowledgeable, caring and nice. And from scraping Johann van der Guyinaband’s baby out of her to her final post-treatment evaluation was all part of one system, so, the nurse who told her there was some kind of ovarian hemorrhaging was able to say “don’t worry, we’re gonna take you to the state run hospital right next door and check you in and do some tests, and from there after you get released we’ll come to wherever you live and keep checking up on you for free. So I know this sucks,” they would say compassionately, “but don’t worry, ’cause we’re gonna take care of you.”
In America, it would have been: you looking down between your feet in stirrups and seeing the abortionist cock an eyebrow suspiciously, maybe mutter, but ultimately say nothing. And then afterward a squat, surly nurse in a briefing room would force some forms on you saying you weren’t gonna sue before telling you you had some kind of complication and might want to go have a doctor look at it. Wait, what? What is it? Ma’am. Ma’am– please, calm down ma’am. I’m not allowed to discuss this with you, we recommend that you go to a qualified physician… and if you have insurance, you get home with your insides stinging and bleeding from having the guy in a band’s baby scraped out of you and the first thing you’d have to do is call the phone number on the back of your insurance card and ring… ring…
Para Español marque el numero “dos” … Welcome to Blue Shield of California. If you are a health care provider, please press “one” now… (wait)… if you are a member, please say “I’m a member.” “I’m a member” I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. If you are a member, please say–” “I’M A MMMEMMMBBEERRRR!!!!!” All right. Please say or enter your ten digit policy number... (beep beep boop beep)… Continue reading
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