A few random facts first.

Saint Obama could have slowed this train down. But he chose to roll over for Turtle McConnell in the matter of his nomination of Saint Garland, with barely a peep. Oh, and Guantanamo is still open too somehow.

Saint RBG could have, but she decided to bet the heavenly farm on Hillary winning, and she lost that hairy bet.

Saint Joe coulda. Remember all that chatter about expanding the court two years ago? It’s a shame he lost track of that one, along with every other good vaguely progressive idea he ever heard. He got a little distracted. 33 billion more for the Azov Battalion, please!

Tactically speaking, the nominal guardians of all that is good and holy around here are a clown car going nowhere.

But they are team blue, so they are spared all rage today.

Them facts are just sprinkles on the cupcake, though.

Crotchety geezer mode, engage.

I was born before there was a Roe v. Wade. I lived all my life with it. And god willing I’ll be here a little while, after it’s gone.

In all that time, regardless of the state of the law or our “freedoms”, abortion has never, ever, been illegal for rich women anywhere. Regardless of whether they lived in Montpelier, Vermont or Chickenfuck, Alabama, not a single rich woman was ever stopped from serenely terminating an unwanted pregnancy, in a clean well-lighted clinic in Basel, Switzerland, or some ironically named Virgin Island.

Most laws only hurt, or even apply to, the poor.

So I have a plan.

Let’s take that 33 billion, and instead of pouring it down the sinkhole of the latest unwinnable and purely European war, down into the pockets of alt-oligarchs at home and abroad, stoking the fires of inflation with stupid sanctions …

Every single American gets a week’s paid luxury vacation anywhere in the world. Even Basel, Switzerland.

In fact, let’s sweeten the deal, and say that in addition to a heated kidney shaped pool, and room service featuring a choice of osso bucco or organic polenta, everybody gets … health care! Up to a prudent point of course, because it’s not like it’s a human right or anything … let’s say 20K worth.

Or whatever abortions are going for in the more enlightened places these days.

Now.

If you are so Bidenista that you are compelled to mumble along with him something like “How ya gun pay for that”, even though I just told you how, I have a more modest version to offer.

You have to take a few more facts to get it though. I know, I’m a mean one.

There are 226 people working as executives for Planned Parenthood that make more than six figures a year, and some of them make more than seven.

But the average wage for a Medical Assistant working for the same organization, according to indeed.com is … $37,969/yr.

That’s all. I thought you should know.

So as a cheapskate alternative, when SCOTUS overturns, and the red state legislatures rush in to ban female choice, we put a contract out to bid, for a new breed of motorcoach carrier.

The routes will run, for example, from Utah to Oregon. From Texas to Minnesota. From South Carolina to Boston. Aboard these coaches will be red state refugee women, getting the medical care they deserve free of charge at blue state Planned Parenthood clinics.

They don’t get osso bucco, but Uncle Sam pays to put them up at, hell I don’t know, La Quinta. Something moderately civilized. The hotel chains will be tripping over themselves to get in on the action, so the government can negotiate prices, just like it is forbidden from doing for prescription drugs. I mean, let’s not make that mistake again; thanks again, Obama.

So there we have it. Either we have one week a year of socialist utopia, somewhere where that’s possible, or we have … budget humanitarianism, only for women of child-bearing age, ’cause that’s cheaper … OR ….

We keep voting for the lesser evil every four years and see where that gets us. The advantage of this popular approach is that we get to scream with impotent fury at those nasty dirty republican men, or Putins, or whoever, as they obligingly squat and shit all over the civil rights of us all, or the economic opportunities of the least of these among us, or even, I don’t know, the Gaza Strip, the Yemenis, downtown Kyiv. Pick your poison. We get to vent in livid outrage, prove ourselves to be the morally superior team, lose all the sleep we want, or just engage in the healthy exercise of railing about how the bad men are taking away the rights of women who will never be pregnant again anyway. Feels so fuckin’ good.

Personally … I want … to rail nevermore.

My own secret agenda, in proposing all these half and quarter measures, is to promote an American home where there is no such thing as a woman too poor to have human rights, because that’s what’s really at issue here–not this red/blue team sports bullshit, not this who-will-win the Fetus Football Super Bowl.

I didn’t tell you that right away because I knew what you’d say about me if I did.

This vision for the Republic For Which It Stands portion, of the thin strip …

So starry-eyed.

That poor addled dreamy boy.

Let him impress you just this once with his lantern-jawed pragmatism, his stolid well-reasoned contention that the Sky is the limit, that the Sky, in fact

Is Home.