infantile exploitation
Note: here’s another long one. I have a lot going on. Obviously.
As everyone knows, unprepared women, when given the option, joyously prance into paranoid facilities to avoid being mothers. That’s why movies are made. To prove to those teen, low-income, and unfit mothers that they should bear unwanted, malnourished offspring. If a server at a diner, married to an asshole, who befriends Matlock, can do it, so can you. If you’re a smart-allicky sixteen-year-old or an upwardly-mobile television producer living in her sister’s guest house, all the better. Unfortunately, not everyone watches movies. They are an extravagance that the poor and uneducated can ill afford.
Thank goodness for Prolife across America notice their logotype, which seems to be written by one of the infants in their photos, and how “prolife” became a word somehow. Without their diligent use of high school graphic designers and donated money, fetuses would be dropping like flies so to speak. The message has to get out there, no matter how pathetically aligned and displayed. There are too many liberal shitpiles to easily alter the constitution of these united states, but giant billboarded adorable will hopefully sway opinion.
Alright, enough of that bullshit. I don’t have much to say about abortion, but strongly believe it is a woman’s right to choose if she is fit and ready to bear a child odd how those that want less government seem so keen on personal freedom destruction. You would assume because we’re in the midwest and thus surrounded by rurals who read the Bible for lessons in biology the pro-life crowd holds a lot of power. However, take a drive out to middleofnowheresville, minnesota, and a different picture is painted. All along the way are photos of babies plastered to billboards giving tagline-lessons in procreation.
Thanks to thosecrazyminnesotans, I was reminded of these grade-school-level art projects that dot the nothingness that is 35N between M.S.P. and Duluth. Her summation of that board in the campaign is pretty spot-on, but there are quite a few more in the archives.
This one simultaneously goes over the head of anti-science folk and caters to the substantially large “I have a dad and a grandma” crowd. Now if only they could have created a less idiotic sentence for the baby to “say.” Maybe “I have my daddy’s eyes!” Or “I got my daddy’s eyes!” Both work, unless you graduated from high school in a ceremony planned by your mom. Then you have to really drive it home by combining both.
Everyone knows you’re not a person until you can be properly identified and not an adult until the government can illegally monitor your phone conversations. At least everyone who spends their Thursday nights staring at the television screen watching C.S.I. with a beer after a long day at the muffler shop. That’s why this one is so perfect and creepy.
I like how the babies in this one have settled for adoption. Those lucky bastards probably a double meaning, but I’ll let it go don’t seem appreciative. The one on the right even looks sort of “ho hum” about the whole thing. “Cool, I’m alive and all, but couldn’t I have real parents?” [rests head on hand and stares off into space]
The same theme that T.C.M. hit on with hers is in this one “what” suddenly being a statement, but has the twist of morbid guilt. A solid combination. It has the added bonus of providing a deadline for you to abort painlessly. Why did they pick such an unattractively posed almost frightening child? And that hair? Try avoiding a head-on collision staring at that young mug. I dare you. I don’t dare you; that’s unsafe; even with miles of cleared field in every direction around these things.
I feel odd saying it, but the excitement on the kid’s face in this one makes me sort of want to flick him in the forehead. What is he looking so forward to? Does he share my fascination with double-wides? Is he that big a fan of middle management if he makes it that high up the economic ladder? Or is it because he has two doting parents off camera that tried for months to have him before his mother’s monthly visitor was finally late? P.L.A.A.’s target market doesn’t seem to share that situation. To be completely honest, the kid scares me a bit; too damien-esque, I think.
Here we have a third-grader learning to use Photoshop in order to prove a point ha. It’s also aggressive as hell. What happened to the soft sell approach, P.L.A.A.? Do you think yelling at soon-to-be-knocked-up preteens is the best route? …Ok, Okay… lay off a second. Easy. Fine, but it didn’t stop them from smoking, is all I mean. You know better than I… Because your evolutionary timeline is easily summed up before the midnight mass, that’s why! Can I finish?… thank you…
This one would be more effective if I didn’t picture a head twice as big as a body floating in embryonic goo with a Joker-like grin on its face. I think they’re also missing a comma somewhere, but it’s already proven that the pro-life crowd is grammatically retarded and completely infatuated with exclamation points.
So the Durex broke? No worries, we’ve got you covered. The kid looks just as confused as his daddy did when you told him you were keeping the baby. Before he ducked out of town to go back to his wife, that is. I guess “Some miracles come with a second job and a tiny apartment in the dank corner of the city!” wouldn’t fit.