From The People’s Cube.
The White House said Monday that the Supreme Court decision extending a religious exemption to the health-care law to closely held companies would jeopardize the health of women. “We believe that the owners of for-profit companies should not be allowed to assert their personal religious views to deny their employees federally mandated benefits,” White House Press Secretary Josh Earnest said.
As the Sharks sang in “West Side Story,” excusing their petty delinquencies to the neighborhood patrolman, back in the 50s, “We is depraved on account o’ being deprived.”
Here, ladies and gents, we have the updated phenomenon: Women in droves dying in the malls, bowling alleys, library stacks and Vegas parking lots because — let us all gasp together — they were unable to continue life as we know it without free concomitant abortifacients of convenience.
They’re depressed. Defeated. And dying on account of being deprived.
Newspapers from the day, back in July through November 2014, report sightings of bereft young women howling in the streets, desperate for some way to ameliorate their Supreme Court-mandated deprivation in that 0.25% of national companies whose provenance is religious Christian, such as that dastardly and uncompromising Hobby Lobby, which began the mysterious pestilence that felled so many millions of entertaining, enterprising, highly educated women of child-bearing and unbearable age. …
“Woe is us!” mewled a toned customer coming out of Lululemon with stretchy pale pastel yoga workout clothing. “I am terrified I might suddenly find myself pregnant! Where can I go? My company offered only 16 varieties of birth control, not the four I particularly need for my blood type and afflicted mental status.”
“Holy highlights,” grumbled another female, a honey blonde #56B in the Gen X or nearby Gen Y crowd, perspiring prettily as she lugged several bags on Main Street in East Hampton. “I’m at the end of my patience,” she moaned as her chauffeur opened the curbside door of her Lambo. Tossing in her packages, she hoisted her Louboutins into the rear passenger seat and waved despairingly. “How will I manage? I just cannot, cannot afford to become pregnant …” She delicately flailed as the sports car whooshed off.
“I had planned to have sex with my number three and four sexmates … this weekend. Now what can I do?” complained the model-thin Design and Decor PhD candidate as she sashayed to the fingernail polish counter of CVS, next to a nefarious display of six brands of condoms with ridges, flamboyant colors, a Heinz-variety of flavors and jumbo to teeny tiny lengths (for foreign-born Lotharios). She brushed against 20 brands of contraceptive spermicides and jellies, barrier methods and dams, accidentally spilling three small boxes of sensation-additive lube on the spanking clean Moroccan tile of the high-end retailer. She did not bother picking them up.
But these appalling anecdotes preceded the mass deaths that followed shortly on the Supreme Court ruling.
Sandra Fluke was the first to expire. Before her death at New York Presbyterian, she hoarsely whispered: “I wanted only to continue having sex the same number of times I did in law school, while studying for the Law Boards — just 25-30 times a month. Was it too much to ask that my $8,000 a summer contraceptive Jones be taken care of by that lousy school I was slaving away at?”
Carefully pulling the covers over Fluke’s flushed and deranged face, her physician confided, “She hardly had a chance, once the Court removed her health choice. There was nothing medical science could do.” He walked quietly out the door into the long hallway, punctured on each side by rooms full of expiring women caught in the dreadful maelstrom of health-deprivation by the new ruling.
On each side of the vestibule, moans and screams emerged, wrenched from women’s throats, cruelly deprived of the best years of their fornicational decades. …
Across the country, church bells rang mournfully, as serried ranks of trollops, strumpets, strippers, collegians, middle managers, exec assistants and never-moms-to-be cursed their fate. Mortician stocks rose precipitously.
“Depriving us of free birth control was the worst thing that ever happened to us. Far worse, in its way, than the loss of the world Soccer Cup was for men back in July,” opined a portly but once-alluring co-ed. She was hectic with exasperation.
“Hillary forgot to save us,” wailed a concave woman in her prime, a project dominatrix of The Littlest Sisters, a penury-possessed nunnery that employs several hundred civilian contractors. “Hill’s pronouncement calling the ruling ‘troubling’ did nothing more than Michelle Obama’s hashtagged ‘Bring back our girls’ did to Boko Haram and the 370 girls they abducted, raped and sold into Islamic slavery.
“No luck. Nothing happened. She blah-blahs, but never accomplishes anything you can point to. We were horribly forced to wait for a new ruling that would have punished all companies for not digging into our private medical records and personal lives, surveying us, and then handing us rubbers, IUDs, Plan Bs, morning-after pills and all the newer bio-engineered inserts into the arm to prevent implantation should we have unprotected sex as usual, 40 or 50 times a week.” …
George Orwell’s great-granddaughter was in Burkina Faso on assignment and could not be reached for comment.
[Read the full article here.]