We Have Ways of Getting Around the U.S. Supreme Court

By now, you must realize the risk I take in going through with your partial-birth abortion. The Supreme Court upheld a ban against it about a week ago. Can I trust you to keep your mouth shut? To be absolutely certain you do, I'll be replacing the dead fetus with a small tracking device inside your womb. From this day forth, I will know your every step within a ten-foot radius. If at any time I need to find you, you will be found. If you do decide to blab this to anyone, I will find you and sew your mouth shut, much like, in a short while, I'll be sewing up your torn vagina. If you're a narc, I will abort your face. Now, let me explain how this will go. I'm going to give you this mask. You're going to put it on and breathe deeply. You'll get sleepy. Then, I'm going to finish you off by squeezing this nerve on your neck. Once you're unconcious, I will not terminate the pregnancy before extracting the dead fetus, which is the only legal method of aborting a fetus at this time, but will instead perform the now illegal procedure of pulling the fetus partially out of the womb before terminating its life. I will do this not because partial-birth is the safest method at this term in your pregnancy, but simply because I enjoy it the most. I enjoy watching a life's full potential get sapped at the end of my syringes and scalpels. It is truly the only thing that gives me joy anymore. Sure, other doctors only used the procedure for about 0.11% of all abortions. It was a last resort in preserving a woman's health and left to the discretion of the doctor. But for me, it was always the abortion method of choice. I wish I had a wife just so I could get her pregnant and partial-birth abort all of our babies. But enough about me. What will you name your abortion? You simply must give it a name. How about "Juliet"? Listen, give me your hand. Let us pray before we go through with this. What shall we pray for? Ah, yes, we shall pray for the only thing I love more than aborting things: saving the lives of death row inmates. Vindicated.

War Veteran Reclaims His Family from Cardboard Replacement

By now, it's been a month since my daddy came back from Iraq with his leg missing, and to be completely honest, I really miss my "Flat Daddy." Mommy bought "Flat Daddy" over the internet. I knew he was only a cardboard picture of my real daddy, but I used to take him everywhere: to school, to soccer practice, to church. People would ask me, "How's your daddy doing?" And I would pretend to think that "Flat Daddy" was real and tell them, "Why don't you ask him yourself?" Then they'd tell me how cute I am and give me candy. Once, when I brought "Flat Daddy" to school, the kids at my lunch table gave me all of their tater tots! But now that Real Daddy is back, no one talks to me as much. Mommy took "Flat Daddy" and folded him up in the trash. Now, no one thinks I'm cute anymore. All they want to do is talk to Real Daddy and tell him how brave he is just because a bunch of stupid shrapnel tore off his leg. I don't think that's very brave. When "Flat Daddy" was here there wasn't as much yelling in the house either. And Mommy never went up to bed early while Daddy played on the computer and drank beer all night before falling alseep on the couch. Also, "Flat Daddy" always smiled and never cried about his friends who died or the searing pain in his leg. If "Flat Daddy" were still around, he would go up to Real Daddy and give him a big 'ole hug, and then he would fly over to Iraq and punch those jerks until they Democratized.

*Bonus Vindication! Guest blogger Jay Leno says: "There's this new service I heard about online for family members of men and women serving in the Iraq War. Have you heard about this? It's called FlatDaddies.com. (pause for Kevin to murmur something) FlatDaddies.com. It's this site where you can go and order a giant cardboard cutout of your absent husband or wife serving in the United States military. Lifesize cutouts to replace the real thing. (pause for Kevin to voice his surprise) Yeah. Yeah, but you know, officials at Walter Reed are upset. They want to know what happened to their latest order of 'Flat Prosthetic Limbs and Sanitary Living Conditions.' (Kevin plays a chord on his guitar, audience claps politely) With the... Cause you got the... (chuckle to self, then to Kevin) They're flat! They're the... can you... oh well... (last few notes of Kevin's guitar) All right, moving on... Vindicated."