You know where the best place to put an anti-abortion message is? On a coat hanger.

Words fail me.

Apparently, Springdale Drycleaners in Cincinnati, Ohio is putting these pro-life messages on their hangers. Their coat hangers. Their wire coat hangers.

“Look, there’s just all that empty space on that paper, and really, if you’re going to hit your target market… besides, every one loves a theme!”

I’m going to ask this, because I think it needs asking, and it obviously hasn’t been asked enough…

“HOW THE FUCK CAN ANYONE THINK THAT’S A GOOD IDEA?!?!?”

No wait, let me ask this correctly.

“HOW THE FUCK CAN ANYONE THINK THAT’S A GOOD IDEA FOR OVER 2 YEARS?!?!?”

No really. I haven’t been able to find a single news report on this, only internet rantings, and mostly just pictures with the caption WTF. But the earliest I can find on this is a post to Regretsy in September of 2010.

So somehow, our incredibly liberal media hasn’t picked up on this to trash it. And our conservative media hasn’t picked up on this to applaud it. Or, somehow, ALL our media is too busy pussy-footing around to try to please their followers that reporting on ACTUAL issues is too scary.

They might lose a rating, you know.

Look, I don’t like abortion. I really don’t. I’ve had some friends have abortions over the years as a means of family planning, and every time it happened, I’d get this sick, icky taste in my mouth. It actually makes me feel nauseous.

I don’t like abortion so much that, at the tender age of 20, when I was unexpectedly pregnant, I chose not to have an abortion.

And I chose it because I had that choice. The moment someone has the power to tell me I can’t have an abortion, that’s the moment someone has the power to decide that I *have* to have an abortion. The thing I’ll agree with Libertarians on is that we over-regulate a hell of a lot. To the point of losing certain freedoms. Like control over my own goddamned uterus.

The last thing I need some asshole in Cincinnati trying to control it by shoving his pro-life message up my twat.