I don’t want to do this anymore

…waking up at fuck you o’clock on a Saturday morning.

…making sure I have money for a parking meter and/or a coffee before I can even leave the house

…driving (for any reason)

…leaning on my cane for two to four to five hours at a time, using up my precious spoons (some days I return and go straight to bed for hours)

…listen to some brain spurting bullshit from pro-lifers who seem to throw any shit at patients in the hope that it will stick, and behave in ways that a normal person would consider rude, invasive and shitty (but to them are perfectly justified), and NOT BE ABLE TO CHALLENGE THEM BACK.


I would love to not have to do any of this week after week after week.  I would love for no escorts to have to bust their asses and risk their bodies and minds dealing with sometimes large hordes of protestors and fake-ass “counselors”. Hell, I would love to get into a big ol’ screaming match with these twits once in a while.


But I can’t.  Because as long as they are out there, spreading lies and guilt like so much rancid garbage, as long as patients need a calm, smiling and respectful presence helping them inside the clinics, I and my fellow volunteer escorts will be there.


Oh, also, #FuckOperationRescue and similar organizations for making my job necessary.


I don’t want to do this anymore

Screw the Rules; I’ve Got Jesus!!

Hey all,

I’ve noticed a THING while doing my escorting thang over last weekend.  You know last weekend, with the Easter and the Good Friday and all of the reproductive rights bruhaha that is involved?

Yeah, I had a great Easter weekend.

So, right, that thing I noticed.  While I was attending the yearly Planned Parenthood counter-protest on Good Friday. I noticed that a few “protesters” had broken off from the designated area for fetus-worshipers, and had set up shop right behind our designated area for the sane.  It was a group most liberal minded gatherings should be used to: The Big Sign Damning Groups of People to Hell!!


A trio of awesome (with fuckery in the back!)











A couple of people wondered out loud how they could get away with moving their little protest right in the way of our food trucks (yeah, we had food trucks and musical acts to keep our side entertaining).  Who gave them the right to break the simple rules that have been set out for both years for years?

My guess is a little thing I’m calling (with a hat tip to TV Tropes): Screw the Rules: I’ve got Jesus!

Why else would people suddenly assume the rules don’t apply to them? Why else would we have Saturday after Saturday after Saturday of people breaking even the simple rules of politeness by pestering complete strangers, demanding their personal information (names, medical issues, etc), and never taking “fuck off”  for an answer? Why else would they feel it’s okay to try to cross property lines and get into places they are legally not allowed to be in?  Why else would it be considered “taking a stand” for people to rise and recite the Lord’s Prayer in protest of not being able to pray at a government meeting anymore?

Because Screw the Rules: I’ve got Jesus!

Just think about it.  Liberal protests get tons of cops attending. Occupy encampments got busted by the cops for trespassing. Those vested charity folks you see downtown who smile and then ask for money for Amnesty International or Save the Children take “no” for an answer.  They don’t chase you down the sidewalk on some fucked up guilt trip. And if I walked into a church sing “God Is Not Great” I would be rightly asked to leave.

Hell, if I walked into a church singing Solstice Carols, declaring my allegiance to the Old Ones, I’d probably be escorted off the premises by the cops and be on the Six O’Clock news.

The sheer gall of protesters and others who think they are endowed with a special exception baffles me sometimes.

Screw the Rules; I’ve Got Jesus!!

Merry Band of Morons

The usual merry band of morons were in the first two hours of an about 4 hour shift. Random McWhiteLady asked me what was the difference between a coat hanger (like the one of my Surly) and a currette. Then she told me, and every other escort there, about the woman in Italy who died after the second dose of the RU abortion pill. Not sure what that had to do with the price of beer in Canada, but okay.

She stopped mid lecture to run, with upside down umbrella and all, to a Muslim woman who walked out of the side entrance to give her pamphlet. Sigh. It was cold and rainy and windy as fuck out and I had my cane, expecting the weather to stiffen my joints. Insert insincere concerns about my health here.

Well, two hours go by, I train a medical student who came down from the clinic to help before the doctors came in, and all of a sudden, like 15 people showed up, wielding signs and changing the group from the usual Tom-fuckery to a clusterfuck of self-righteous posturing for the Lord.

There were children. Two in a double stroller (that they didn’t bother moving to give space to an elderly man leaving the dialysis clinic), some free range. A baby, well two, one was in the stroller, the other was carried around. Did I mention it was cold and windy and nasty outside? These children were freezing as they held signs and were marched around the block. Their parents and fellow prosters were just the worst. The first black protester I’ve seen (and dad to the stroller kids) stood next to the property line and delivered the most boring Bible study in the history of Bible studies. Big ass Bible in hand, monotone voice, asking questions at us, just ugh. I could have pulled a better sermon out of my ass. Creepy Grandpa picked up the little free range baby and practically shoved her into our faces, asking us if this was a child. One of my fellow escort and I had been distracting ourselves with just noise as Preacher Bore was talking, but the baby thing set her off.

“That child isn’t a prop!” she yelled, and CG kept talking, and the sharks starting getting closer, and we both yelled at him to mind the line.

To add a cherry to the shit sundae, the wife of Preacher Bore started in on us with the usual guilt trip BS, even calling back to the “not a prop” outburst. As they were FINALLY leave, she said they would pray for us (with TONS of stank all over that wish), and that may God have mercy on our souls. I asked for physical help to keep me from flipping her dumb ass off.

I managed to keep it until they were crossing the street a block away. And I waved. With one finger. One of the guys must have saw me because if the look he gave me out of his car as he passed could kill, I’d be a bloody smear on the pavement.

So yeah, stiff, in pain, tired, and pissy, I think naps were deserved all around.

Merry Band of Morons