I don’t often break into great gales of laughter. I’m usually not reduced to helplessness. There are few things that get me laughing so hard my stomach hurts, I can barely breathe, and I start sob-laughing. Usually, I can get through funny stuff with just a grin or a guffaw. I’m pretty restrained like that, especially when I’m alone and don’t have someone else’s mirth jamming its foot on my funny bone.
I can’t really remember the last time I lost it. It might come to me someday. I can tell you this is the hardest I’ve laughed this year, and I really feel like I shouldn’t. I mean… it’s not a funny subject. Not a bit. I’ve got to give you trigger warnings right now: if you’re at all squeamish about graphic medical stuff, if you’ve ever had a prolapse or been traumatized by someone else’s prolapse, this piece may not be for you. You may be permanently scarred.
Right? Okay. To give you time to work up to it, I’ll show you how I got there. This piece is worth reading all on its own. It’s where Fred Clark turns a Left Behind scene into a feminist slapstick. It had me giggling pretty hard.
So the other night, I’m finishing up with Fred’s Left Behind savagings. Watching a progressive Evangelical Christian rip these things apart has been an education and a half. He’s on the third book now, and he’s just reached the point where Rayford Steele, pilot to the Antichrist, Real True Christian™, and complete asshole, is lecturing the Antichrist’s girlfriend about abortion. This is the kind of guy who doesn’t warn his co-pilot to get the fuck of of San Francisco before it gets nuked because the dude was a bit rude to him. Seriously. Here he is, telling Hattie Durham why she shouldn’t abort this baby she doesn’t want, and his lecture is exactly as bad as all those self-righteous fuckwads who preach from the pulpit, the statehouse, or the street. There’s a lot of unintentional hilarity in these books, as aspiring hack Jerry Jenkins pounds out words that sound thoroughly convincing to the already-convinced.
Fred analyzed it straight, and then rewrote it, taking into account the fact that the Temple had been rebuilt, and that certain parts of Exodus would be back in force. You must read the whole thing, but I will give you this taste:
Hattie looked horrified and at a loss for words. She fumbled for her next line and glanced down at her script. “I’m just a woman, so I don’t understand,” she recited flatly. “Please mansplain further.”
He twisted his face at her a bit harder and continued, “The Bible says, ‘If she has defiled herself and has been unfaithful to her husband, the water that brings the curse shall enter into her and cause bitter pain, and her womb shall discharge, her uterus drop, and the woman shall become an execration among her people. But if the woman has not defiled herself and is clean, then she shall be immune and be able to conceive children.’”
Hattie’s script was now rolled tightly in her hands, her white knuckles shaking. She stared at the floor and, through clenched teeth, spat out her next line. “Please go on. It’s so helpful to have a man explain this for me.”
“Something is wrong, and so people defend their right to choose,” Rayford said. “But the Bible isn’t ‘pro-choice,’ Hattie. The Bible says you have to have this abortion. You had sex, Hattie. You have to be punished.”
“Please go on,” Hattie screamed, leaping from her seat. “Please explain further!” she shouted as she began pummeling him with the rolled-up script. “Please! Explain! Further!”
It ends with a bang and a whimper, btw. Gentlemen: prepare for maximum misandry. Just keep in mind it’s fantasy, and I don’t endorse doing what she did in real life.
Anyway. The bit about the bitter waters and dropping uteri reminded a commenter about something they’d read recently.
Author’s Note: Told with permission. Nay, with encouragement. And it probably needs a trigger warning for horrible…medical…um…good god, I don’t even know.
So I have been having the week that will not die. Kevin had food poisoning, then I put him on a plane, then I had mega food poisoning, then I laid around for a day or two recuperating and by the time I could stay upright without lunging for the bathroom, Brandon the border collie was ill and I had to maneuver an elderly 75lb dog with bad hips into a car, a feat made (just barely) possible by all that mulch I throw around, and then I got home with Brandon and maneuvered him into the house to discover that the beagle had a limp, which meant I spent all day at the vet today.*
But this pales. Pales, I say! In comparison to what happened some days ago.
I received a text from my mother.
It said—I have it before me now—
“Still blizzards and extreme windchill and today my uterus fell out.”
It gets better, or worse, depending on how warped your sense of humor is. I will help you fundraise for your therapy if you need it afterward.