By Guest Author Samuel “Justice” Alito
Look, women, I know that you’re pissed, but I’m sick of you sticking your noses where you don’t belong. You need to leave important matters like your rights up to those who know what’s best for you: us. After 1,746 years living on this earth as a man, I know everything I need to know about being a woman. Trust me, I have a daughter, who I hate, and I have a wife, who hates me. And whining is awfully unbecoming for women. Quit acting like you don’t have access to a coat hanger. But if you don’t have a coat hanger, there are plenty more safe and accessible options–like stairs, or a private jet to Sweden.
Here’s the thing: God wants us to make abortions illegal. Jesus said that in the Bible, he said “Planned Parenthood is the devil and abortion is not specifically mentioned in the United States Constitution,” and so obviously we have to get rid of it. I need to make sure that my conscience is clear so that I can get into heaven, which means that I have to vote to overturn Roe v. Wade.
But, a note for the boys, I know how it goes! Sometimes, whoops! She’s pregnant! So then some pregnant whore is saying it’s your fault and that you have to deal with it, and on those occasions it sure would be nice if she could abort that thing. Wait, yeah, why are we trying to make it illegal again? Oh yeah, the God thing! So it has to be illegal, but if you ever find yourself needing a woman to get an abortion, here are some handy tips. This is fine because I still voted against it and that’s all that counts in God’s eyes. And remember, she’s the one getting the abortion, so she’s the one going to hell.
When I was in college 1,728 years ago, there was none of this Roe v. Wade, and us guys still got by. Here is one strategy I used: I fucked this girl and she got pregnant because she made me refuse to put on a condom, so my dad called in a few favors and we flew her out on our family jet to Canada or some other socialist shithole and she went to a special secret woman doctor and he cast a spell on her or something and got rid of the baby. So, there’s strategy number one: call your dad’s close personal friend, George Bush Jr. III, put your private jet to good use, and get that inconvenience out of your life. Also, definitely no need to call the girl afterward, you already did her a huge favor by getting rid of her baby she grew all on her own.
Here’s another strategy. This other time I fucked a girl in college, she wasn’t really as hot as the first girl so like I’m not gonna go to all that trouble, right? So what I did that time, I just told her to figure it out. Easy! Someone told me she drank some Lysol because “that was what she could afford” and “the baby was killing her.” But then I never saw her again, so bullet dodged!
You know, thinking about the good old days has got me thinking about the good old days. Any chance we can get rid of Title IX while we’re at it? I’m having too much fun.
And look, I know by overturning this it seems like we’re going back on our promise a little–but how is this any different from all those women going back on agreeing to have sex with me? Fair is fair.