Election Day is here at long last, and I am hunkering down at work in my daughter's home. This awful economy has just about done in my son-in-law's construction business, and three and a half years ago, in May 2009, he had to let his bookkeeper of 19 years go and take this old retired lady on for free. I have also put all of my spare cash into trying to keep things going. We finally moved out of the offices he had leased for over a quarter of a century and into their dining room and basement. My bookkeeping office is in the dining room and he is in the basement. Two cats keep him company. Mostly he is out trying to get work. ANY work to keep us going until things pick up.
I hope it will be all over tonight, but my rational mind tells me it will be days before we know, if not weeks or even months. My tummy is in a turmoil.
Yes, men can get raped, and they hate it. But they still do not equate it with women. That awful guy who put up the "personhood" bill, a married man who looks to be in his sixties, was asked in an interview if he had considered pregnancy from the WOMAN'S point of being there, and he admitted he had never done so; never for a nanosecond. A fertilized egg that is not as big as the period at the end of this sentence is to become, through law, more important than a woman who has lived 13 to 45 years and been a good daughter, person, wife, mother, or whatever. She can die, but the unknown "person" must be preserved at all costs, including, possibly, her life.
