End of the spermatozoic era

http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2011/sep/02/anti-abortion-critics-nadine-dorries:

The campaign to toughen Britain’s abortion laws was losing momentum as Tory MPs on Friday backed a rival amendment and questions emerged about links to Christian counselling services that might benefit from the proposed reform.

Here if ever is an issue which will only be resolved by women restored to their proper power, i.e. with genuine transcendent intuition, able to understand issues such as these unclouded by – in this case – American Evangelical “Christianity” – in other words blokes exerting the same spermatozoic half-Nelson they have had women in for millennia. As Monty Python sang, “Every sperm is sacred…”

Is it not obvious, given the immensely complex, emotional and sometimes painful process of menstruation, that the human female egg is the thing that is sacred? Each woman carries within her a finite number of eggs, release over the course of her lifetime. Blokes on the other hand cook up millions of fresh sperm every time they glimpse a pair of boobs.

Precisely why, you will say, the fertilised egg is sacred. Women who abort are murderers, you will say. Life begins at conception. Perhaps! But this is post hoc moral high-grounding. The cock withdrawn, the cave door rolled shut and its contents left to resurrect. To be borne and born and suckled and nurtured by the woman.

If every sperm is sacred, then it is blokes who must respect the cock, this curious Y-chromosome viral add-on. A genetic graft contrived to compensate for the catastrophic schism between soul and matter. Almost everything we know about the world and our place in it comes from this dark aeon whose brightest spark to date is probably the iPhone – and I am not being wholly ironic here, this device has its part to play!

But for those able to cleanse themselves of the millennia of blokery, able to see the laughable triviality of the cock and ball story of it, its imminent obsolescence in the face of massive global overpopulation (yes, India and your moustachioed bloke-clones) there are other glimmers!

O woman, deep in your toils. Persist! And you will meet your Lady!