My Magical Cooter

The longer I read conservative bloggers, the more convinced I become in their belief that my cooter has magical properties.

I could, for example, not want to have a baby, but, if only the State could coerce me into passing a baby through my cooter, it would transform me into good mother who would be grateful to have a child and who would never neglect or mistreat it.

And a male, if forced by the State to profess loyalty to my cooter, might transform from a boy into a man (see the post Carter links to).

I can’t help but wonder what other things might be made better or more wholesome by a State-sanctioned trip through my cooter.  Might my hands now have healing properties I’ve not discovered?  I’ve just been throwing my tampons out.  What if they have the ability to cure cancer? If the State legislated that I stick pencils and pens for school children up there, would we do better on standardized tests?

A girl wonders.

3 thoughts on “My Magical Cooter

  1. You can’t throw your tampons out anymore, Aunt B, they might magically become evidence of your cooter’s infanticidal practices. After all, used tampons sometimes contain fertilized eggs that failed to implant in your uterus for whatever reason, and folks are trying to convince the world that life begins at fertilization, not implantation…

    Other than that, I love the idea of a magic cooter. : D I’ve met a few cooter-worshipers in my time, and they appeared to me to be a peace-loving, pleasure-giving people!

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