Last year, women voted for their vaginas. I know it’s true because the media said so. During the election, everywhere I looked a helpful Democrat was telling me they “supported my vagina” and that “evil-rich-white-men” shouldn’t tell me what do to with said vagina. Er, okay. Apparently there was this massive war for my genitalia that I was unaware of, and thank goodness Obama and the “liberals that be” were looking out for my lady parts. Shew!
Of course, I was more concerned about the economy sucking wind, our troops overseas and the huge amounts of unemployed women in poverty under Obama, but hey, I guess I should have been more concerned with things like birth control and getting the government to pay for it. Yes, according to Democrats I should have every right to tell you my vagina is none of your business, but if I can’t afford birth control, you have to pay for it. So pay up–otherwise you’re just a part of the war on me!
As a part of this whole lady part “shock and awe”, last year during the RNC a group of women dressed up like vaginas and danced around, proclaiming their freedom. I thought about dressing up like a dollar bill and dancing around trying to remind everyone about the deficit, but somehow that didn’t seem as attention grabbing as the other. They sang songs about their rights and even dared to waddle into the actual convention in an attempt to protest. Silly me, I was more interested in hearing Governor Martinez (NM) talk about strong leadership as a woman when clearly we should have been dressed up as a female body organ and demanding equal pay. Ya’ know, because when you’re dressed up like a dancing vagina, people take you seriously.
I suppose what bothers me most of all (besides the visual of a woman dressed up like a vagina and dancing to, “I Gotta Be Me”) is the idea that as a woman, all I care about is myself and what happens between my legs—that the only part of me that matters is the reproductive part and the rest is irrelevant. For example, let’s say I am concerned with a balanced budget and I bring this up with a Democrat. Before I can even finish my statement they’re crying and telling me not to let anyone tell me what to do with my body. Okay, not sure what my body has to do with a balanced budget but hey, knock yourself out… with a brick.