In my Impromptus of Thursday, I had a note on Fort Hood, saying that the killer there had managed to gun down 13. Several readers have written me to say that the number should really be 14. One of the soldiers, Francheska Velez, was pregnant. Her dying words were, “My baby, my baby.” For an Associated Press report on the matter, go here.
When I was coming of age, the phrase “meaningless blob of protoplasm” was in the air. At some point, President Clinton’s surgeon general said we needed to “get over this love affair with the fetus.” It seems very clear to me that pregnant mothers, when dying, don’t cry, “My meaningless blob of protoplasm, my meaningless blob of protoplasm.”
Is that too rough for you? So’s the subject.
The one and only.