I thought of writing this column as my annual April Fool’s column but then it occurred to me that the April Fool’s columns are fictional events created around the best comedy writers available: politicians who take themselves far to seriously.
No, I decided, this can’t wait until April because I’m convinced that a conversation strikingly similar to what follows is almost certain to occur somewhere in the gret stet of Texas over the next few months. Hell, it may well happen more than once, if I know the tendencies of self-righteous politicians.
The conversation will take place when some Repugnantcan legislator receives a discreet call on his cell phone:
Him: Hello.
Her: Can you talk?
Him: For a few minutes. I’m due in a committee meeting to discuss additional voter restrictions in a few minutes, so make it quick.
Her: I have some bad news.
Him: Bad news?
Her (crying softly): I’m pregnant.
Him: extended silence.
Her: Are you there? Did you hear me?
Him: Yeah, yeah. Are you sure?
Her (sobbing): Of course. I went to a doctor. I’m 14 weeks along.
Him: Fourteen weeks? How did that happen?
Her: Seriously?
Him: You know what I mean. I thought you were careful.
Her: I was, but nothing’s foolproof. At least that’s what you’ve been saying about the COVID vaccine. By the way, did you ever get your shots?
Him: Yes, but keep that to yourself. I don’t want the anti-vaxxers to know that. They’re a big part of my base.
Her: What about the evangelical pro-lifers? Aren’t they a big part of that base, too?
Him: Damn! They’ll crucify me – if my wife doesn’t do it first.
Her: Yeah, I thought about that. She’s gonna be pissed.
Him: You sure it’s mine?
Her: Of course, I’m sure! You’re the only man I’ve been with since you hired me in your office three years ago.
Him: This is bad, really bad, for me – worse than tapping your feet in a public restroom.
Her: What about me? I’m the one who’s pregnant.
Him: Be quiet. I’m trying to think. We have to do something.
Her: I’m going to give him your last name.
Him: WHAT???!! You’re gonna do what?
Her: I’m going to have give it a last name and since it’s yours…
Him: NO!!! You can’t give it my name.
Her: Why Not? If it’s a boy, I might even give him your first name, too, and call him Junior.
Him: ABSOLUTELY NOT! (He cups his hand over the phone as passersby look his way as he involuntarily raises his voice.)
Her: Well, I’ll have to name it something. And we’re going to have to talk about child support.
Him: You obviously don’t understand the consequences here, the political repercussions…
Her: What I understand right now is that you and I went to that prayer breakfast a few months ago and on the way back to the office, we saw this motel that rents rooms by the hour…
Him: Look, I’m serious. You can’t have this baby.
Her: What?
Him: You heard me. We have to find you a doctor who can keep his mouth shut.
Her: Weren’t you one of the legislators who were out front in passing that anti-abortion bill? You know, the one that pays bounty hunters $10,000 to turn in anyone who helps a woman get an abortion? Didn’t you stand behind the governor and applaud when he signed the bill and announced that he was going to eliminate all rapists in Texas?
Him: Shut up. This is different. You cannot have that baby. It would ruin me and I have a shot at the governor’s office someday – or maybe even crazy Ted Cruz’s Senate seat. If you have that baby, all that’s out the window.
Her: So, what you’re saying is it’s all about you, right?
Him: I didn’t say that. It’s all about preserving American ideals and integrity, about putting God and family values first and only a true patriot can do that. Now hang up and start looking for an abortion doctor in Louisiana or Oklahoma. Don’t worry about the cost; I can disguise it as a political advertising expense and pay for it out of my campaign funds. Oh, and don’t call me on this number again. I’ll get a disposable phone and call you and give you the number.








