“It is a universal truth that we take the good things in life for granted, the good people in life. Until they are no longer there, and then we miss them. We miss them very much.”
I have the right to objectively define pregnancy from rape as rare. I have the right to determine separate legitimate rape from all those instances when you were in need of encouragement, wearing a red dress or otherwise asking for it. I have the right to manufacture scientific theories about your body — theories which reinforce my power. If the body doesn’t ‘shut that whole thing down’ then clearly you weren’t raped, and there’s no need to talk about an abortion. And even if I am wrong on every count, I still have the right to dictate the terms of your body and the remaining days of your life.
All of my rationales range from the totally subjective to the outright mythical. But I am the sovereign of the female body. On my word rumor becomes science, and the destruction of your life is repackaged as the defense of someone else’s.
Victorian scientists were particularly interested in [the question of animal suicide], according to historian Edmund Ramsden in a 2010 article. Humane societies were eager to prove that animals experienced humanlike emotions, and animal suicides offered proof. A series of such stories began to appear in periodicals in 1845. One involved a depressed Newfoundland dog that repeatedly leapt into the water, kept its limbs still, and held his “head determinedly under water for a few minutes.” Other dogs drowned or starved themselves after losing their owners. A deer jumped from a precipice to avoid capture by hunting dogs. A duck drowned itself after the death of its mate. Scorpions were thought to sting themselves when surrounded by fire. No matter the motivation, self-destruction appears to be something that exists in even the simplest life forms. Single-celled marine algae engage in programmed cell death when exposed to stresses that they’re fully capable of overcoming. Researchers recently discovered that the “suicide” of some cells promoted growth in the survivors. Like infected mole rats or bees that abandon the colony to prevent an epidemic, algae die for the good of the community.
I hate cooking. It takes too much time and effort. Then, after you’ve eaten everything, you have to clean up.
I demand instant gratification with no consequences.
Earth by Mike Malaska
oh those canadians.