With apologies to Tracy Morgan, those who know me know that I have two hobbies: making money and getting girls pregnant. And by “girls” I mean paid sex workers. That being said, it would never do for a man of my societal stature to allow some lower-class call girl to bear my bastard child, which is why I always insist on an abortion when my seed lands on fertile ground.
Stop looking at me like that. It’s not as if I make the prostitute foot the bill. I pay my own piper, thank you very much — I am, after all, a class act.
Besides which, I didn’t come here so you could wag a stern finger and question my personal ethics. No. I’m here to celebrate the 40th anniversary of one of the best decisions ever handed down by the Supreme Court: Roe v. Wade.
Without legal abortion, just imagine how much worse it could have been for all the prostitutes I’ve impregnated over the years. Dark, litter-strewn alleyways, coat hangers, alleged doctors who were thrown out of med school for having sex with cadavers — the list goes on and on. Though come to think of it, I suppose dark, litter-strewn alleyways are still part of the deal; it’s not as if you’ll find value-priced abortion clinics in good neighborhoods.
Man, all this talk about knocking up prostitutes and forcing them to get abortions has really put me in a right randy mood. So if you’ll excuse me, I have some calls to make. Thanks for stopping by — here’s hoping your Roe v. Wade Day will be as fun as mine. Ciao.