It's 3 pm on a cold rainy Sunday and I'm still in my jammies. I haven't showered. I've barely completed the necessary rudiments of survival. I opened a can of smoked oysters for lunch. I read in bed with a soy americano. I probably haven't had a day this deliberately lazy since I was a pothead undergrad. This is pretty friggin sweet!

This reign of decadence will, sadly, end now because I stink and I'm hungry. I can kinda see the problems with it as a lifestyle.

A glimpse into the sordid history of DIY reproductive control.

I have been an abortion provider since 1972. Why do I do abortions, and why do I continue to do abortions, despite two murder attempts?

The first time I started to think about abortion was in 1960, when I was in second year medical school. I was assigned the case of a young woman who had died of a septic abortion. She had aborted herself using slippery elm bark.

I had never heard of slippery elm. A buddy and I went down to skid row, and without too much difficulty, purchased some slippery elm bark to use as a visual aid in our presentation. Slippery elm is not sterile, and frequently contains spores of the bacteria that cause gas gangrene. It is called slippery elm because, when it gets wet, it feels slippery. This makes it easier to slide slender pieces through the cervix where they absorb water, expand, dilate the cervix, produce infection and induce abortion. The young woman in our case developed an overwhelming infection. At autopsy she had multiple abscesses throughout her body, in her brain, lungs, liver and abdomen.

I have never forgotten that case...

The first month of my internship was spent on Ward 41, the septic obstetrics ward. Yes, it's hard to believe now, but in those days, they had one ward dedicated exclusively to septic complications of pregnancy.

About 90% of the patients were there with complications of septic abortion. The ward had about 40 beds, in addition to extra beds which lined the halls. Each day we admitted between 10-30 septic abortion patients. We had about one death a month, usually from septic shock associated with hemorrhage.

I will never forget the 17-year-old girl lying on a stretcher with 6 feet of small bowel protruding from her vagina. She survived.

I will never forget the jaundiced woman in liver and kidney failure, in septic shock, with very severe anemia, whose life we were unable to save.

Today, in Canada and the U.S., septic shock from illegal abortion is virtually never seen. Like smallpox, it is a "disappeared disease."...

I can take an anxious woman, who is in the biggest trouble she has ever experiences in her life, and by performing a five-minute operation, in comfort and dignity, I can give her back her life.

After an abortion operation, patients frequently say "Thank You Doctor." But abortion is the only operation I know of where they also sometimes say "Thank you for what you do."

Full article

I am going on an internet diet as part of my New Years Resolution, so I won't be posting as much, nor will I be following all of your exciting adventures as closely. Don't take it personally. I just need to decrease my electronic adiposity somewhat.

However, pictures of vagina-shaped carrots are always a welcome diversion. gwendally, I insist you get that thing bronzed and placed on top of your TeeVee.

Via Fight Geek

Also, for your edification, I present two instructional videos produced by me and mizalaina.

PART 1



PART 2

A great morning so far: a nice little schvitz, a good latte, and now this gem from catamorphism.

Thanks to everyone for taking an interest in my new hobby of martial arts. I thought I'd post some video of how I'm progressing.

Researcher Says a Woman's Paycheck Is Key to Determining How Much Housework She Does

Sociologists clue in to shit that feminists pointed out, ohhh, 150 years ago. Way to pay attention.

Match 1



Match 2

As of today at 11 am I now own this bad boy:



That's right bitches, in a cumulative total of 3 minutes and three nasty chokes I earned myself the #1 finish at Joslin's Canadian Open. This belt is fucking epic. It is straight up WWF style. It is so far into a "don't" it's come all the way back around to a "do". That is how I roll. I shall be wearing it with my business casual ensemble tomorrow, and for every day after that, possibly even in the bathtub.

Oh, and then I took mizalaina to the hospital with a separated shoulder from her second match. 5 mg of morphine, mild physical indignity, and some giggly narcotic-y goodness later we were on our way with a fancy new sling to visit dad in hospital #2 (finally recovering nicely, has stopped seeing through time and forgetting where he is and who he is, multiple incisions healing, now back to cursing out the Conservative government, the universe returns to normality, pshew).

Now going to bed after one of the craziest weeks of my life.