Loyal, disloyal and undecided readers, I would like to spend this week’s column talking about an issue near and dear to my heart: the bodies of pre-menopausal women.
See, as an old man, and a Republican at that, I have a very nuanced perspective on these issues. I’ve been present for at least one of the births of my 10 children, and my latest wife allowed me to intercourse her with the lights on at least 10 percent of the time (or, dispensing with the statistical terminology, approximately thrice). So if you had to go to only one person for advice on the “ovaries,” “uteri” and “Bela Lugosian tubes” of women, it obviously should be me.
And I have a lot to say on the matter, much like my political kindred spirits Richard Mourdock, Todd Akin and many other Republicans with the combed-over virility of a young Donald Trump. Now, on the first issue of legitimate or illegitimate, ra—(Editor’s Note: This section of the column was removed because the author simply left a 400-part flow chart describing how coercive a sex act must be to be defined as “rape.” And the editor of this column decided that even in comparison to the normal awkward lack of comedy in Monday, Monday this semester, that would simply be an excruciating bridge too far.)
Of course, there are other issues on which I have opinions, opinions I will shout loudly from the hilltops until some news agency reports on it. The first is this: Women are getting free contraception. Free! Free, so long as they merely have health insurance! Thanks to my absurd federal tax burden under the Obama administration of nearly 14.7 percent on my stock options-based income, I must be paying for dozens of people’s sex lives. And I had though I got out of that business after the digitization of the adult film industry wrecked one of my most profitable ventures.
Health insurance should only cover the most important aspects of medical care. Heart surgery. Annual physicals. And no less than three major pills that allow elderly men like myself to maintain an erection due to the debilitative effects of aging. I personally prefer Cialis, but this is the land of the free: No one should be able to stop me from using Levitra or Viagra if the mood strikes me. I have the right to choose.
And, as an old white male, I maintain the right to choose for others. Decisions like these should be left in the hand of business executives, people who understand economics as well as I do (I was, after all, a crucial leader of the financial sector for much of the 2000s). People respond to incentives, and if women get contraception, they’re going to have sex with a potentially unlimited number of partners. Two? Three? Four? More? With women being as wily as they are, no man could possibly know what their own woman would be up to at any given time. The idea gives me chills, as well as a very uneasy pill-induced erection.
I am proud to say that any woman I have ever bedded was required to tell me I was the only man they had ever been with. They also all claimed that I was their best, which is somewhat confusing since I was their first partner, but I’ve long since gotten over the bizarre things women yell to me mid-coitus, like “Is that it?” and “Oh, well isn’t that cute.” For, although I may not support Willard Romney on every issue (for example, every view he held as governor of Massachusetts), I do support what I understand to be his deeply held Mormon belief that there should be multiple women for every man, and not vice versa. Gives me less to worry about.
The truth is that this country has a decision to make this coming week. Do we really want to provide contraception to nearly 15 million Americans, encouraging women to have rampant orgiastic sex whenever they desire? Do we want women to have the financial resources to be able to choose about their reproductive health?
I would tell you what I think, but I am an elderly white male. I’ve already said my piece on this issue.
The Grumpy Trustee hopes that he made up for his ham-fisted political commentary with an ounce of self-deprecation and a pound of crude sex jokes.