I, The Rapist, Can Choose My Baby's Mama

I’m a baby-maker, in America.

A man.

People have finally woken up.

Men are getting respect again,

back to how it should be, how it used to be.

Florida. Texas, Missouri, Alabama, so many,

have seen the light, have answered the call.

Keepin’ you ladies in place.

See that beautiful gal over there?

You know she wants it.

I’ll show ‘er what she wants, give ‘er what she wants.

She can’t get rid of it. She’ll be arrested.

That doctor can’t help her. His credentials will be stripped away.

She’s gonna have my baby.

Then I’ll move on to another.

And another.

They said it on the news. I heard it.

Rape births are God’s plan. Husbands don’t rape.

Rapes don’t happen on colleges.

It’s just rough sex, the way women really want it, you know?

The churches are on my side.

True Catholics still says birth control is a sin, ladies.

It’s my baby, growing inside of you, more important than you.

My bud is messin’ with his niece. That’s his option.

If there’s a complication? She’s gotta have it.

That clinic can’t help. This ain’t healthcare.

We know you’re gonna try to run. To cross the state line.

But your neighbor, she’s gonna report you.

She looks pregnant, they’ll say over the phone.

She’s trying to escape her womanly duty, another screams.

It’s finally, finally, a great time to be a man again.

I can choose you to be my baby’s mama.

I can force ya.

If some bleeding-heart throws me in jail,

it’s no matter.

You’ve still got to have my baby, in this state.

God bless America.

Originally published by Joe Guay on Medium.com.