Having left her child-bearing eligibility decades behind, Robin (Some Babies Deserve to Die) Abcarian of the Los Angeles Times is living out her remaining days spitting what appears to be chewin’ tobacco into invisible spittoons.
Robin can’t be a reporter any longer. She thinks, writes (and eats) at a tilt, loathing objectivity, making her an excellent fit at the struggling Times. So she has been assigned to do opinion pieces that will appease the Times’s hard left audience.
Between chaws the other day, Always Angry Robin boarded her favorite Uber burro. Together, they trotted, painstakingly slowly, along an uncomfortable 210-mile path to Paso Robles.
Her date was with America’s apparently oldest abortion doctor, who gave her name as Susan Robinson.
Robin hurriedly sought to assure Mrs. Robinson – whose favorite wrestler was Killer Kowalski — that she was not applying to kill her own baby. At least today.
At the outset, the two gray ladies engaged in a tear-shedding competition. They wanted to see who could fill a bucket first with ostensibly sincere tears over the latest baby killings by Poorly Planned Parenthood in yet another downtrodden neighborhood where downtrodden mothers come to end an evident nonentity’s nondescript life.
Reduced to single syllable words in their distraught state, the two elders kept muttering “darn,” “darn,” “darn” to each other because a number of Poorly Planned Parenthood officials have been caught on video talking gleefully about crunching baby parts and selling them for cool prices.
Fortunately, Mrs. Robinson – whose favorite actor is Dustin Hoffman — lives in the open spaces. Therefore, the unseemly wailing by the faded ladies over Poorly Planned Parenthood’s latest embarrassed admissions did not disturb normal people. Or her neighbors.
As their tears began to bake dry in the mid-day sun, one of the girls began to recover her composure.
Shortly both of the elders were slinging zingers at normal people who oppose killing babies for compelling reasons such as being a nuisance.
Mrs. Robinson, who wished Mr. Hoffman had come to interview her instead of Robin and her Uber burro, told Robin that she is proud to belong to America’s small army of baby killers.
“Now when people ask what I do, I say, ‘My specialty is abortion care, and I love my job.’”
Hopefully, no one from the Mafia or any racist left wingers read that pathetic crack in Robin’s chesty, boastful defense of baby killing in this morning’s Times. With baby killing now being called “abortion care,” the Mafia boys can plug an unfortunate wretch and defend their crime by claiming they are in the “wretch care” business.
That aroused Robin, who was starting to doze off.
Straightening her dusty, abbreviated cheerleader skirt, Robin wrote in the seventh paragraph of this morning’s ode to baby snuffing:
“It is long past time to reclaim abortion as a social good, long past time pretending that it is a horrible tragedy for everyone who has one.”
Can you believe, dear reader, that a supposedly civilized (even extreme left) woman cradles these nasty thoughts?
Let’s summon the high school football team tonight. We will have a pep rally for abortion. Yeah, baby killers. Fight, team, fight.
Robin can bring, or wear, her dusty, abbreviated skirt.
In her next sentence, Robin told the kind of fib that comes so naturally to inherently dishonest lefties:
“One in three American women will have had an induced abortion in her lifetime.”
Robin lifted that fib from the same girl who said 20 percent of college girls are raped.
I was not even halfway through Robin’s latest I Am a Victim diatribe, where she deceitfully spoke of “reproduction” rights instead of using its real name.
But I had become too sick to continue.
