I Solve the Abortion Problem Kleinheider Style

Though the whole exchange was traumatic, I did learn something important:  If something happens to only between 4 and 10% of a population a year, that frequency of that thing happening can be typified as "slim to none."

Armed with this knowledge, I took the number of women of childbearing age in the United States (ages 15-49) in the year 2000–71,779,895–and the number of abortions performed in the United States in the year 2000 according to the government–857,475–and discovered that only 1% of the population of women of childbearing age had an abortion in the year 2000.

Therefore, it seems only fair that we feel free to announce that there are practically no abortions in the United States.  Problem solved.

Tier Has Expanded

No longer content to claim the dumpster and the electric pole, Tier has now claimed one of our dead end signs* and, more exciting for the rest of Nashville, he’s claimed the side of the wall that runs between us and I-440 on the I-440 side.  So, the next time you’re between 40 and the Murphy Road exit, look to the west and see the handy work of our neighborhood graffiti artist.


I’ve been on the look-out for him myself, just because I’m curious, but I haven’t seen any suspicious activity.


Oh, yes, anyway, I was going to review the expansion.


I give it a three out of five possible stars.  I’m excited to discover that he’s not actually the world’s least ambitious tagger, but I’m sad he’s only using black spray paint.  There are a world of spray paint color choices out there and it seems like a nice brick red might go well with the earth tones of our neighborhood.  Or maybe a deep blue.  Heck, I don’t know.  But color is a good way to catch the eye, and if you’re going to go to the trouble of getting out onto the 440 side of the wall, you want to make sure your work stands out.


 


 


 


*Nashville, can we talk about the dead end signs on our street?  There are three of them.  There’s one right at the corner of our street and Acklen Park, there’s another one at the last side street and a third farther down the hill.  So, what the fuck?  Why do you come flying down our dead end at 30 miles an hour and then look all shocked and sheepish when you have to turn around?  Did you think those three signs were lying?  I’m about to petition the City for a “No, really, guys” sign to put up right before the last Dead End sign.

“A gloriously repugnant display of elitism and snobbery.”

Y’all it is wrong to take pleasure from watching conservatives turn on each other, but clearly, I’m already an immoral, godless, heathen, commie liberal pinko fag man-hating feminist bitch and so what’s “who enjoys watching conservatives turn on each other” when added to that list?


It’s like saying “She kills nuns and sucks the brains right out of newborn babies AND she kind of doesn’t get the appeal of Rush*.”


So, first there was the whole “Let’s have some proof that Roger Abramson really is a conservative and not some faker.”  (And folks, I know y’all think that being a conservative is just so great, all Lee Greenwood and Toby Keith concerts and heterosexual sex and puppies and kittens and women doing the dishes while men kill spiders and otherwise keep the home safe, but believe me, those of us who are not conservative are in no hurry to disguise ourselves as such.  From your perspective, it may seem like the best way to live, ever.  But from our perspective, it seems to require a lot of time doing shit that just doesn’t seem to be that fun–like defending Santorum.  We are not secretly pretending to be you, believe me.)


And now the youngsters have turned out to call the old man names.  I’ve become aware that conservatives like using animal stories to talk about human behavior, so, if I may, let me tell you a little something about how the animal kingdom works.  Often a strong, powerful male will gain control of all of the resources in an area–food, water, women, the remote control, etc.  And the young upstart males will have to hold back kind of at the edge of the group but not really, because, if the old man sees them, he’ll either run them off or have them for dinner.


Now, granted, if the young men ever want the resources for themselves, they’re going to have to challenge the old man for his spot.


But you’ve got to choose your moment.  And, boys, today is not it.


Anyway, it’s rapidly becoming clear to me that the Republican party is split into two divisions–the fabulously stupid and the folks who secretly consider themselves libertarians–and that it’s fun to watch those two groups duke it out.


Who will win and who will give up and leave the party?


It’s better than anything on TV right now.


 


 


 


*The band, not the drug-addled shock jock.