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Thursday, November 23, 2017

Do I Have To Have A Baby Shower?

Credit: Marga
Mama Mia, that one will break a heart or two.

Q: Do I have to have a baby shower? A: Not if you change the baby's diaper very quickly.

A couple of Yogi Berra's teammates on the Yankees ball club swear that one night the stocky catcher was horrified to see a baby toppling off the roof of a cottage across the way from him. Yogi dashed over and made a miraculous catch - but then force of habit proved too much for him. He straightened up and neatly threw the baby to second base.

Baby caught and just fine. Babies are resilient. Since my good friends Jim and Morgan Olson had waited to have children, in honor of his paternal ancestors, Jr, known as Ken Olson, was not getting any circumcision. Circumcision has gotta hurt. Circumcision is a really bad American thing. It is not regularly done anywhere else.

Two five year old boys are standing at the potty to pee.

When one says, " Your thing doesn't have any skin on it!"

" I've been circumcised." Says the second boy.

" What does that mean?"

"It means they cut the skin off the end."

" How old were you when it was cut off?"

" My mom said that I was two days old."

" Did it hurt?"

" You bet it hurt, I couldn't walk for a year!"

Most child care experts and doctors recommend against circumcision. Dr. Dean Edell has advised against infant circumcision in his radio show for more than 15 years. Sheila Kitzinger emphatically recommends that parents leave their sons intact. Dr. Lendon Smith goes into detail explaining the foreskin’s purposes and giving many reasons why circumcision should not be performed. Dr. Spock, in his most recent book, stated, “I feel that there’s no solid medical evidence at this time to support routine circumcision,” and recommends “leaving the foreskin the way Nature meant it to be.” Penelope Leach also recommends against routine circumcision.

Unlike American parents, few parents worldwide are actually faced with this choice. Their babies are automatically brought home intact. 82% of the world’s living men are intact. Few people are aware of the fact that circumcision was introduced into American culture in an of course unsuccessful attempt to eliminate masturbation. What are you thinking when you have your sons circumcised?



About the Writer

Marga is a writer for BrooWaha. For more information, visit the writer's website.
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8 comments on Do I Have To Have A Baby Shower?

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By alan handwerger on July 10, 2010 at 05:29 am

"There is a divinity that shapes our ends, rough hew them how we will." (source:??)

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By alan handwerger on July 10, 2010 at 05:56 am

Hamlet to Horation (Hamlet, Act V, scene ii)

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By Marga on July 14, 2010 at 04:50 pm

Horribly, circumcision started in America during the masturbation hysteria of the Victorian Era, when a few American doctors circumcised boys to punish them for masturbating. Victorian doctors knew very well that circumcision denudes, desensitizes, and disables the penis.

As late as the 1970s, mis-leading American medical textbooks still advocated routine circumcision as a way to prevent masturbation. The antisexual motivations behind an operation that entails cutting off part of the penis are obvious.

The bizarre and radical practice of routinely circumcising babies did not begin until the Cold War era. This institutionalization of what amounted to compulsory circumcision was part of the same movement that pathologized and medicalized birth and actively discouraged breastfeeding. Annd actively discouraged breastfeeding.

Private-sector, corporate-run hospitals institutionalized routine circumcision read mutilation without ever consulting the American people. There was no public debate or referendum. It was only in the 1970s that a series of lawsuits forced hospitals to obtain parental consent to perform this contraindicated but highly profitable mutilation/surgery.

The typical European's realistic and unfettered attitude toward sex is that sex is as important as eating or drinking and we must allow it to be satisfied with as little restraint or false modesty as the other.

I wonder in Paris why the women there seem so much less threatened by men than those San Francisco, Chicago or New York. I wonder is Parisian women assume their country's men are more civilized.


The European culture, as an older culture, is more civilized. European culture is proud of its women. And very appreciative of the female form. Which isn't to say there aren't problems between the sexes. They're just more honest and comfortable about sex itself -- avoiding issues which cloud so many American attitudes and relationships.

In Europe, women--adults and teens alike--just don't seem threatened by men. They're not armored. It's as if they assume the men on the street present no threat.

In America--even in New York--women on the street seem...guarded. Defensive. They seem to erect an "ice wall." That means American men must be scary to thes ewomen and whho knows which one is a predator to these women each woman wonders.?

I think American men are viewed as predators because American women have long been exploited as objects and thus as prey -- to be spied on, snickered about, slavered over and treated with disrespect. We're forbidden fruit, taught to flaunt and retreat, tease and withhold ... and American men grow up learning to leer and pounce.

America's enduring Puritan heritage with its tightlipped, tightassed, uptight culture of prudishness and pseudo-moral rectitude has bred a culture rife with sexual ambivalence, especially now in modern times. Our Melting Pot citizenry notwithstanding, we live in a Christian-dominated society here in the US -- sin and guilt and penance still strive mightily to overcome sex, drugs and rock 'n roll.

Europeans-especially the Italians and the French-on the other hand, have been cavorting happily for centuries in celebration of wine, women and song. Without guile and definitely without fake piety and self-conscious morality. Largely Catholic societies, they seem to have come to terms with a behavioral trinity of Sin, Repent, Move On.

In Europe, the human body is accepted as natural -- revered, in fact as one of nature's miracles. And rightly so. Throughout Europe, nudes conceived by history's greatest artists grace parks, squares, churches, public buildings for all to admire. And real women-and children-and men appear unselfconsciously naked on advertising billboards, in TV commercials ... and on the beach.

Speaking of "America, the land of the free," why did Broowaha remove my link here I had at eliminate masturbation and replace it with a useless link to the Broowaha front page?

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By Marga on July 14, 2010 at 05:11 pm

Melody, that kind of interference from Broowaha with my stuff here is probably why there will not be "More, more, more!" Why bother when that happens after I went to all the trouble to write, proof and link everyhting correctly only to see Broowaha destroy it?

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By Luster on July 16, 2010 at 01:09 pm

Don't get up gentlemen, I'm only passing through -- I'm not that eager to make a mistake. I don't wanna talk religion, don't wanna talk politics. Now you don't wanna talk about your day and you sure don't wanna hear 'bout mine. I hold my head up high, I never lose my smile. I'm half dyin’ but it's way down inside. Lot of water under the bridge. Lot of other stuff too. Strange weather I'm having inside my head. This crazy atmosphere puts my mind to bed. But the storm in my skin is the fire where you've been. My waking eyes watch this life begin. Sex may keep the world filled with people, but attraction, and attachment and commitment to attraction, provide it with families.

Time staggers on. Marga, it’s been a long, long time. I know that you only wanted then and want now to help us as we were again standing on the gallows with our heads in a noose. Any minute then I was expecting all hell to break loose. And it did. My friend, theft is always the sincerest form of flattery. Even thievery with variations. Wouldn’t you say? Can you stand down a centimeter or two though please :) Things have changed.

Naturally, I wanted a family, children with the man I am in love with, my husband. Who hasn’t felt the butterflies and racing heartbeat of the early stages of love’s giddiness and suppression of feelings that might topple your elation to then see it be replaced with a calm confidence of a happy, monogamous relationship as the relationship develops? Jim serving me with divorce papers three weeks into our marriage after nine years together was insane. Even more so since my husband, the one wearing the crown of my lover, best friend and father I planned of my children had said nothing to me about it first. No warning. No talk. How come I don’t get any warnings Jim?! What happened to talking Jim?! Couldn’t we meet and discuss it? Shouldn’t we have discussed this all first?! My husband makes love with me, then my husband walks out the door letting in his divorce process server. I stood there sweating in shock. All I could think about was so much for his death do us part promise. I began to cry then. I forgive my husband but our having our child is on a definite hold. Once emotional memory is established, it appears to last forever. As the case may be . . . I was negotiating with my husband knowing full well for what I wanted. For what I wanted was us to be a family.

People are crazy and times are strange. I'm locked in tight, I'm out of range, but things have changed. Here comes the storm again, love is a hurricane. And every day that I live I will live for the rain. Electrify me, magnify me, feel the thunder rolling through me. Oh so mysterious, the shape of my dreams. Love is the sky falling in. Then the sky fell on me. My husband serves me with divorce papers again. Impossible isn’t it, but it’s true. I’m now doubly betrayed. Then – right then – I was so frightened. That scooped-out hollow, distending fear, the flutter of immense black wings. Once felt, one is never the same. Another long, cruel divorce. And I’m about as mixed up and hurt and miserable and angry as a lady can be. I’m doing the best I can only to find out again it’s just not enough for my husband.

And in the middle of it all, there Jim and I sat, in foul daily isolation from each other. Again, no warning first. Jim, how come I don’t get any warnings?! Jim, what happened to talking?! My husband had actually slept with me to get my college class schedule out of me so his process server could serve me in class, which they immediately did. I was so afraid, humiliated and hurt. Everyone’s afraid at one time or another. I forgive my husband again but our having our child is still on hold.

Here comes the storm again, here comes the hurricane. And this life that I live, I will give to the rain. Here comes the storm again! Light patterns to a field of light, they move and live for the rain. Then my husband serves me again with divorce papers again. I was stunned. It seems so wrong. It was wrong. Jim knew it was wrong. Moreover, whenever Jim gets defensive out of guilt, he’s dangerous -- more cruel, vindictive, brutal and self-righteous. I don’t know why he can’t ever admit he’s wrong. That these divorces he keeps doing is stupid and suicidal, entirely against the idea of love and marriage itself; but he can’t. All a lady should have to do is one battle, and then someone else should carry their load from there. That’s childish and unrealistic, I know. Where has all the immaturity and fickle got us though? Again, no warning first. My husband again pounces on every remaining faculty I have that’s still functioning or viable. In addition, of course no legal sanctioned fraternization/conjugal visits. Oh, sure.

How come I don’t get any warnings Jim?! What happened to talking Jim?! My husband actually filed a Twin Cities police report this time that I “stole his car” but somehow didn’t tell those police that car is in both our names and we are married. I again forgive him but our having our child is still on hold. It gets harder and harder for me to look the other way . . .

Then he serves me with divorce papers again. Again, I was frightened. Again, no warning first. How come I don’t get any warnings?! What happened to talking?! My husband won’t meet my eyes. His eyes are flat, steady and coolly condemning. I was shocked. I again forgive him but having our child is still on hold. The brain works most efficiently when it focuses on one task at a time.

We’ve got a loving, stable home. I’m thinking of my biological clock. I love my husband knowing full well of his inability to communicate as an adult with me. Age does not necessarily confer maturity and accepting responsibility. I had never considered we would be waiting so long to have finally our first child. So, a few trips to a fertility specialist, and we are pregnant on the second attempt and $17,000 out of pocket. It’s a boy. I’m small-boned and older so the pregnancy is increasingly difficult.

A healthy chronically good-natured cheerful Junior is born at 6 pounds 4 ounces, 26 ¼ inches, with a full head of fine hair, but his papa is a no show. I really need his papa to be with me then. Others and I are increasingly wondering where Ken’s papa is. Incredibly, it turns out my husband was again abandoning me. Being now a mama, that frightened me more than anything else before. Jim, how come I don’t get any warnings?! Jim, what happened to talking?! My husband informed me of such via hurtful telephone messages and mailing me hurtful letters, then finally informing me we’re not married and sicing several lawyers on to me. Jim, this isn’t fair. I was soon utterly conquered. This is all an inconceivable nightmare again for me. I just don’t believe that my husband’s doing this again. How was I to know that our Marin County home would become my husband’s pied-a-terror?

It was bad enough what my husband did to when he was in his Damnation of Memory mode, selling me down the river, throwing me under the wheels of the bus, but now we have a son -- we have a son now! A son who needs both his parents and their resources. A son who needs both his parents and their resources for a long time to come.

I love our son. I shamelessly and irrevocably love his papa. I know Junior needs a mama and papa that love him and raise him together in the same home. A loving, stable home. One I thought his papa and I had. Junior’s papa had instead again become highly unstable elements. Junior’s mama’s having a nervous breakdown due to his papa’s sticking it again to his mama. Our son is better than either of us. Ken’s made of even finer spun material than us. The world is a comedy to those who think. The world is a tragedy to those who feel. There is something humbling and saddening in that realization. Ken has our quickened sensibility to think and passion to feel. Primarily, I had to protect our son. I had to do what was right and best for our son.

Marga, I know that you only wanted then and want now to help us. Thank you for that. With your kind help then I was forced to a Plan B which became our son back to his Austrian roots with the stipulation of keeping Ken’s American parent’s identity masked. Austria is much better at being trustees of their wealth, their obligation to use wealth for the common good, than Americans. Then I had a complete breakdown -- physically, emotionally and mentally. Much later, only to discover bittersweet stuff like this as Jim’s army of attorneys took every photo of us and then so clearly conveniently for them, lost them. I don’t remember a lot about those awful awful times.

Time staggers on. You know I never done anyone wrong. I hold my head up high, I never lose my smile. I'm half dyin’ but it's way down inside. I had deliberately attempted to deaden all emotion in order to do this for our son but the anguish was terrible. Because for me to feel then was to suffer, to go mad with grief at the loss of my husband, my lifestyle and now our so long eagerly awaited child. I wanted no more insanity. Or the pained shadows again flickering in my eyes. I was thoroughly conquered.

I loved and love my husband so completely that I couldn’t and can’t believe he didn’t love me in the same way. Oh Jim, Jim. You troubled, troublesome, good boy. Our son needs a papa who is a good man, not a troubled, troublesome boy or even a good boy. We owe that to him. And my husband sold us short, so I was forced to face the present alone. My husband didn’t even want to see his son let alone hold him. It was such a rough deal. Sure we occasionally fouled up, but don’t be so quick to write me off. We were naive and misguided sure, but I cared for my husband. Still do. I cared. I then had passion, enthusiasm and belief with all my heart in my husband. Only to learn my reward was I was being blamed in my husband’s other world where I was not my husband’s wife or even the mother of our son.

Time continues to stagger on. I do not want our son to know ever his natural father abandoned him just after he was born. I want our son to know only that both his natural parents were good people that loved him.

I tried. If there’s anything I’ve learned is that there isn’t much one person can accomplish alone and on their own.

The best is yet to come and the next sixty seconds could be like an eternity . Gonna get low down, gonna fly high. Here comes the storm again, here comes the hurricane. And this life that I live, I will give to the rain. Here comes the storm again! again! Here comes the storm again, bring on the clouds again. Love is a hurricane, and I live for the rain. I live for the rain! I hold my head up high, I never lose my smile. I'm half dyin’ but it's way down inside. I'm not that eager to make a mistake.

So don't get up gentlemen, I'm only passing through.

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By Marga on July 24, 2010 at 02:52 pm

Ken’s is May 2nd. Ok, but one of the many jobs husband’s have is to help his wife when she stumbles over her own feet. Another is not to kick her when she has fallen.

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By Marga on October 22, 2010 at 04:52 pm

why are all my "tags" now missing from this story?

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By Marga on October 22, 2010 at 05:11 pm

okay I put my "tags" all back here but why are all my "tags" still missing from this story?

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