Hypocrite, PA

I was driving through Pennsylvania and saw three things that really pissed me off. My favorite little country store had a “save marriage” petition on the counter—which means I can never buy anything from there ever again. An adult store had a billboard placed outside of it by some family group—it had a picture of a sad, abused little girl and the words PORN CORRUPTS! And alongside the road, every 500 feet or so, were “abortion is murder you stupid whore” signs—ok, not quite that wording, but close enough. My poor son had to listen to me for a good thirty minutes as I made plans to get knocked up then head to Hypocrite, PA with my big dykey lover. She has to be really butch so the people have to stop and wonder if maybe, just maybe, she had the ability to get me pregnant. She would hold my hand during my abortion and we would prop a portable DVD player on my stomach during the procedure so we could watch all the porn we wanted. It would totally fuck with the protestor’s minds—they would condemn us for going through with the abortion, but they would also condemn us if we raised the child because our gayness might rub all over it and place a horrible black mark on its mortal soul. I think the resulting mental debate would cause at least one of them to spontaneously combust.