I Want The Pictures Of My Partial-Birth Abortion Back

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Vol 39 Issue 15

Small-Town Residents Come Together For Arby's Raising

BUFORD, PA—Buford's 322 residents, as well as many citizens of surrounding towns, came together over the weekend for a good old-fashioned Arby's raising. "People came from as far away as Lancaster to pitch in," said local delivery-truck driver Jonathan Beckman, 44. "It was a real team effort: Me, Zachary Fordice, and Eli White poured the foundation while old Benjamin Wetzel built the prep-tables, and the womenfolk installed the booths' vinyl seat covers." Beckman said his wife Maryellen "can't wait" to whip up a fresh homemade batch of Arby's famous Horsey Sauce.

Catholic Child Told About Doggy Heaven, Doggy Hell

NORTHAMPTON, MA—Three days after burying his beloved labrador retriever, Daniel MacNeil, 9, was told about doggy heaven and hell by his fourth-grade teacher, Sister Doris Behnke. "Don't cry, Daniel. I'm sure Shiner was a very good doggy," Behnke told the mourning child Tuesday. "He's probably in Doggy Heaven right now, running through its big green fields and chasing squirrels. Only disobedient doggies who chew on the furniture or lift their legs on the carpet will burn in the eternal, white-hot kennel fires of Doggy Hell."

Tortured Ugandan Political Prisoner Wishes Uganda Had Oil

KAMPALA, UGANDA—A day after having his hands amputated by soldiers backing President Yoweri Museveni's brutal regime, Ugandan political prisoner Otobo Ankole expressed regret Monday over Uganda's lack of oil reserves. "I dream of the U.S. one day fighting for the liberation of the oppressed Ugandan people," said Ankole as he nursed his bloody stumps. "But, alas, our number-one natural resource is sugar cane." Ankole, whose wife, parents, and five children were among the 4,000 slaughtered in Uganda's ethnic killings of 2002, then bowed his head and said a prayer for petroleum.

Is Syria Next?

Tensions are rising between the U.S. and Syria, which the Bush Administration has warned against harboring fugitive Saddam loyalists. What do you think?

That Rob's Got Some Seriously Strong Shit

Hola, amigos. What's up? I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya, but I got my irons in a shitload of fires these days. I got this new job running people from the airport to a car-rental place in a little bus. I know it ain't the coolest job in the world, but it keeps my cruising skills sharp, plus I get three weeks' vacation and some insurance. I never thought I'd be one of those old fogies who cared about insurance, but there it is. Don't think I can't still rock, though.

Uday's Pleasure Palace

Last Week, U.S. soldiers toured the remains of Uday Hussein's home, uncovering a lavish palace of sex ands drugs. Among the niceties enjoyed by Saddam's son:
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I Want The Pictures Of My Partial-Birth Abortion Back

Help! I can hardly walk down the street these days without running into some pro-life protester waving a picture of my partial-birth abortion! I never wanted those photos to get out in the first place, but now that Congress is considering a ban on late-term abortions, it's only getting worse. Petitions, billboards on the interstate, leaflets—those photos of that bloody little fetus all hacked apart on a surgical steel table are everywhere. Listen up, Right-To-Lifers: I want the pictures of my partial-birth abortion back!

As you probably guessed, I'm pro-choice. But even though I firmly support a woman's right to choose, I was still pretty embarrassed about having an abortion, and I don't want to be constantly reminded of the mistake I made that put me in that position. So may I please have those gruesome photos back? Please? Pretty please?

I realize those partial-birth pictures are very desirable. After all, out of all the abortions performed in this country, less than one percent are done at that late stage. Most of those occur because the woman's health is in jeopardy or genetic defects were discovered in the fetus. But I wasn't in any danger. And my fetus looked like a perfect little unborn child—a definite plus for the posters. So I can see why the pro-lifers would be so eager to use them. But the bottom line is: My abortion, my photos.

Call me screwed up. I admit it. It's probably the reason it took me five months to admit to myself that I was even pregnant. That's me, Crazy Sara. But even though I was in no position to raise a child, I still didn't want an abortion. It wasn't until the doctor found out about all the drinking and Ecstasy that... well, the rest is history. Only, it's not history because now I can't run into the supermarket for a gallon of milk without bumping into some born-again Christian wearing a T-shirt sporting my mangled unborn son under the words "God Is Pro-Life."

Yes, I should've been more careful with the snapshots. I showed them to a few people, who in turn showed them to a few people, but they were interested. Okay, so I may have let a couple people borrow them, but they swore it was just to show their closest friends. I didn't expect that those pictures would fall into the wrong hands and one day come back to haunt me. Now I know how Vanna White felt when she turned up in Playboy.

I've made all sorts of efforts to get those photos back. I left a bunch of messages at both In-His-Name Signs and Trinity Silkscreeners. I've approached protesters and tried to wrestle the signs out of their hands. I even put up flyers around town with a photo of the photos and a $500 reward for their return. Nothing has worked.

You say he was a child, not a choice. Well, if that's the case, wherever he is right now, he's probably not too thrilled to be looking down at all those pictures of the day he got yanked out of my uterus. So for his sake, not mine, could you please give 'em back? I'd really appreciate it.

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