Planned Parenthood officials
recently announced plans for a mobile abortion clinic—a 37-foot-long RV—that will stay in Illinois, where
abortion is legal, but travel close to the borders of adjoining states that
have put strict limits on the “procedure” since the Supreme Court overturned
Roe v. Wade earlier this year. The clinic on wheels will serve prospective
abortion patients in the neighboring states of Missouri, Kentucky, and
Dr. Colleen McNicholas, chief medical officer for Planned Parenthood’s St. Louis office, stated: “The mobile abortion clinic is a way to reduce travel times and distances in order to meet patients at the Illinois border. This will make a dramatic impact on their access.”
That Planned Parenthood would invest in “one particularly lethal recreational vehicle,” to paraphrase a line from the movie Stripes, illustrates its unquenchable lust for killing kids…and making money. The organization will do almost anything to increase abortion access…and pad its bottom line.
Yamelsie Rodriguez, president and CEO of Planned Parenthood of the St. Louis Region and Southwest Missouri, said that the RV clinic would begin traveling by the end of the year and include two exam rooms, a lab, and a waiting room. Initially, it will provide medication abortions up to 11 weeks of gestation, but Planned Parenthood aims to provide surgical abortions after the first few months of operations.
According to a report in the Associated Press, both McNicholas and Rodriguez declined to comment on the safety and security of the mobile clinic. I can report that it is extremely unsafe for the unborn.
What says “recreation” more
than abortion? This macabre RV is bizarrely mindful of an ice cream truck. Will
it, too, play a jolly little tune as it drives around neighborhoods and haunts
state borders looking for its next
What’s next (a question I ask myself often of late)? I’m guessing mobile transgender assistance clinics that will have the ability to chemically castrate or surgically alter kids who are confused or who have succumbed to peer pressure.
I can almost picture the mobile unit slowly winding around a suburban cul-de-sac, playful kids’ music emanating from its speakers. Inside a home on the cul-de-sac, a young boy hears the approaching vehicle and excitedly runs to his mother.
“Mom, the transgender truck is here, the transgender truck is here! Hear it? Can I please change genders now? Huh? Can I, please? There is a whole list to choose from right on the side of the truck! And Uncle Joe gave me a hundred bucks last week for my birthday, so I can even help pay for my transition!”
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