Babies are babies

One blogger writes about the inherent awkwardness of being pro-choice:

"There I was, being normal, testing the murky waters of a potential romance, when a particular girl told me she was a vegetarian.

Me: Bummer.
Her: Do you eat veal?
Me: Uh, well, no, because it’s not often offered to me-
Her: I never eat veal. Do you know what veal is?
Me: Baby cow-
Her: It’s baby cow!
Me: Yes. Yes it is.
Her (tearing up): Do know that they sometimes kill the baby cows within months of them being born, just so they’ll taste nice and tender?
Me (lying): Yeah, it’s terrible. I heard that sometimes, they even kill the baby cow while it’s still in the womb.
Her: No!
Me (still lying): No it’s true.
Her: That’s absolutely sick.
Me: Hey, are you pro-life?
Her: No, of course not. I believe in a woman’s right to choose.
Me: (waiting)
Her: I’m not a big fan of our species anyways.
Me: (waiting)
Her: I have so many pets! I have a parrot, and a cat, and -

I had to explain my own creative verbal manipulation to her, which completely took the joy out of it. And, needless to say, all romantic interest was dragged immediately into the deepest pit of hell, all praise be to Him Who Saves Mightily. But it’s a serious point: If those things that look like babies, act like babies, think like babies and react like babies are, in fact, not babies, then those cows aren’t cows, and she needs to stop whining. Actually, if fetuses truly are not what they – by every standard – appear to be, then why stop at abortion? We could make a sport out of them, for all they’re worth. We could use them in designer make-up. Oh wait."

You can read the rest of it here.