In which Swiftee gets his very own crate label

Resistance is futile.   I love you,  Swiftee!



The title of this post should actually be  “In which my love of crate label art happily coincides with my love of  Brit slang [see also] with hilarious results.”

It’s really the only non-ironic way I could associate the concept of  ”love” with the concept of  ”Swiftee”, but then you longtime readers probably knew that already.

For those of you who may be unfamiliar with Tom Swift, aka T.J. Swift, aka Swiftee, the link above, to a rather innocuous comment at Norwegianity, is really not enough to give a true picture of the full majesty and magnificence that is Swiftee. This link may further enlighten you:

“I smell the stink of your fetid breath in the welfare lines; in crime ridden public housing compounds, in the detox wards where the detritus of liberalism wretch the bile of leftist compassion onto the floor; and in the horror chambers where Dr. Frankenstein rips your doomed children from the wombs of your defiled women.”
— ApathyBoyblog comment section, T.J. Swift “Swiftee” , Conservative Minnesota blogger

If that isn’t a big enough whiff of Eau de Swiftee for you, here’s more:

Powerline Blogger Scott Johnson Teams Up With Sleaze-Blogger “Swiftee”

Yes, that’s our Mr. Swift.

Turns out that a beneficial consequence of making “Tom Tit” Swiftee’s very own brand is that I was reminded that I’m due for a mammogram.   My mother had breast cancer, so starting at age 35 I’ve gotten a mammogram every other year for the past 23 years.  Which also reminds me:  Did you know that mammogram referrals are just one of many health services provided by Planned Parenthood?

With the knowledge and advice I obtained from Planned Parenthood, I used contraceptives for years, until I decided I wanted to have a child and subsequently got pregnant for the first time at the age of 33.   After approximately 12 weeks that pregnancy ended in miscarriage — after which, like many women, I needed a D&C to completely clear the uterus of all remnants of the pregnancy.   In my case, if that blood and tissue debris had not been removed there was a significant chance it could become cancerous.  My doctors  advised me to use contraceptives for the next year or possibly longer,  to insure that any remaining hormone-producing cells from the first pregnancy were completely gone before I got pregnant again.   So that’s what I did.  To act otherwise would have been to endanger my life.

Every two weeks I had to go in for a blood test to check the level of HCG  in my blood.   Finally, after 8 months of tests coming back negative, I got a clean bill of health and the go ahead to try for another pregnancy.   A little more than a year later I gave birth to my first child, and eighteen months after that I gave birth to my second.   Two uncomplicated, full-term pregnancies; two healthy, beautiful babies.

As I neared 40, I started thinking more and more about whether or not I wanted to have another child.  My partner and I did some research–  BTW, Planned Parenthood is an excellent source of accurate medical information about men’s as well as women’s health issues –and when I came to the conclusion that 2 children were enough for me,  Mr. Tild offered to get a vasectomy.  Ultimately tho,  since it concerned my future reproductive capability, not his,  I was the one who made the decision:   When I was in my early 40s I had my tubes tied.

Not too many years later I needed to decide how I was going to manage my symptoms of menopause.   At the time, hormone replacement therapy was practically de rigueur for menopausal American women, but the findings of the Women’s Health Initiative had recently cast serious doubts on the safety of some forms of HRT.

Remembering that in the 1960s, shortly after experiencing her first hot flash, my mother was given a prescription for Premarin, which her doctor continued to prescribe for her (just as other doctors did for thousands of other women) for years – nearly twenty years!   She finally stopped taking Premarin a few years before she was diagnosed with breast cancer.  Four months after her mastectomy my mother died suddenly of a massive pulmonary embolism.

Regarding my own menopause, once again Planned Parenthood’s current, accurate health information helped me make the choice that was right for me.   Planned Parenthood gives people — people, as in “women AND men” — the tools to make informed choices about not only their reproductive health but their general health over the course of their entire lives.   

Planned Parenthood didn’t make my choices for me.   They weren’t Planned Parenthood’s choices to make.   Or Sarah Palin’s.  Or NARAL’s.  Or Michele Bachmann’s.  Or the government’s.   Or the church’s.  Or Swiftee’s. Or yours.   They were mine.   I chose.

And you know what else? It doesn’t matter what my choices were. The important thing is that I chose them.   

Whatever choices you make, it is YOU who chooses.   If you havent figured it out yet, this is what choice truly means. 

Swiftee,  for reminding me of the many reasons why I stand with Planned Parenthood today and tomorrow and always,  I’ve made a donation to Planned Parenthood in your honor. 

Thank you,  Tom Tit!


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