In ‘Oh God, A Show About Abortion,’ the Jewish comedienne mines her own experience for jokes.
ed note–again, ladies and Gentile-men, yet another prima facie example of ‘how they do it’.
As we have posited here on many occasions over the span of many years, one of the most POTENT weapons which the Jewish state and the followers of Judah-ism–the ‘children of Israel’ as they love to refer to themselves–have deployed against the collective Gentile mind hasn’t just been Bill Kristol’s Weekly Standard or Jennifer Rubin’s OpEds in the Washington Post.
The aforementioned night-creatures and their publications are geared more towards the ‘intelligentsia’ in America, including those in policy-making decisions such as members of Congress, high-ranking officers in the US military, and of course, El Presidente himself.
No, the average American working his/her 40-hour week isn’t going to tune into Kristol, Rubin, or any of the other cast members making up NeoCon, Inc.
Rather, with a cold can of suds in his/her hand and seated comfortably on the couch, those places where he/she is going to self-medicate and self-sedate into that comfortably numb zone of semi-literate/semi-aware consciousness are places such as this–
and this–
and this–
–Featuring overtly-Jewish characters in harmless situations, telling jokes, yucking it up and in general making everyone laugh and feel good, just like that can of cold suds, when in fact, the entire operation is an informational-based technological version of that often-referenced story featuring a large wooden horse–given as a token of surrender to a walled city under siege–serving as the instrument for that city’s eventual conquest via the soldiers hidden in the horse’s belly.
These programs and many others, ‘climaxing’ just prior to Israel’s terrorist attacks on 9/11, functioned as a highly-effective ‘date-rape’ drug that would succeed in anesthetizing any and ALL suspicions that the American people (and indeed the West in general) might have maintained viz Mossad’s involvement in what was an act of war and of mass murder.
The clashing of ideas, characters, and motifs–Jerry, Elaine, Kramer, George, Fran, Rachel, Monica and Ross–all of the Judaic ‘pedigree’, either in real life or as the characters they play on stage–being juxtaposed to characters such as the infamous ‘5 dancing Israelis’ arrested on the morning of 9/11 or a Benjamin Netanyahu saying the attacks were ‘good’ in their bringing ‘sympathy’ for Israel–succeeded in what the creators of these Judeo-phile programs were out to produce–tens of millions of Americans in love with the very people who were/are out to destroy them.
And likewise with creatures such as those featured in the story below.
What she is joking about here, the grisly business of chopping up living children within the wombs of American women, is schtick written by the hand of Beelzebub himself, while America, as a ‘captive’ audience, laughs at its own demise.
In putting all of this into its proper context, all can imagine what the immediate and volcanic result would be if there were a Muslim comedienne who did a stand-up routine joking about the 3,000 Americans who died on 9/11 or a Christian comedienne joking about Anne Frank’s family dying in the ‘death camps’ during WWII and then being used for fertilizer, lampshades, soap, etc.
But a ‘comedienne’ of the Hebraic persuasion schticking about murdering children, well, that’s ‘art’ along the same lines as that featuring Jerry, Elaine, Kramer, George, Fran, Rachel, Monica and Ross, and something that warrants a giggle and a grin.
As far as the mechanics of the piece itself, please nota bene the following–
‘Oh God’ invites us to laugh at and thus dispel the contrast between virtuous femininity and the sometimes scary, always messy reality of living in a body that can make a baby.
Again, prima facie of ‘how they do it’–take something such as femininity and motherhood, something inherently and organically holy, sacred, beautiful, and life-giving/life-sustaining, shower it with stinking Judaic sewage disguised as ‘comedy’ and make it profane and septic, no different than this–
–Or this—
Nexto–
Asked during a pre-procedure sonogram if she wanted to know whether the fetus had a heartbeat, Leiby says, ‘You can fax that to Mitch McConnell. I don’t really care about it, but he seems to care a lot.’
Again, the same casual, callous love of death and human destruction that comes as a ‘package deal’ in any and all circumstances where the followers of Judah-ism, the ‘children of Israel’ as they love to refer to themselves, are given the choice of thinking/acting morally vs thinking/acting Judaically.
Lest we forget–
–And all of it emanating from this–
And finalmente, in bringing this little discussion to a close, we would be remiss if we did not point out what is perhaps the ugliest of the many ugly truths surrounding all of this–
It is those very same individuals hailing from the ‘Christian right’–Israel’s ‘Amen corner’ in America–the ‘pro-life’ Evangelicals who over the course of many, many generations have poisoned the minds of Gentiles in America and elsewhere in the same manner as Jerry, Elaine, Kramer, George, Fran, Rachel, Monica, Ross, et al with their worship and elevation of the followers of Judah-ism, the ‘children of Israel’ as they love to refer to them, who also have the blood of millions of innocent children on their hands by shielding otherwise curious and concerned Christians from understanding the danger which the Jerrys, Elaines, Kramers, Georges, Frans, Rachels, Monicas, Rosses and all their cousins well-positioned within politics, economy, media, academia, the military, etc, pose to the entirety of Christendom and who–just as Jesus Christ Himself warned–have read their lines/played their parts flawlessly as the false prophet/wolves-in-sheep’s-clothing roles for which they auditioned.
The Jewish Daily Forward
One thing nearly all birth control ads have in common are the pristine landscapes in which they take place. There’s the girly swimming pools of Nuvaring, the stylish, vagina-themed boudoir of Phexxi, the jewel-toned backdrops of Annovera. These elaborately constructed settings could not be less reflective of the actual experience of using birth control, which involves such pursuits as monitoring your legs for fatal blood clots and applying salves to the cystic acne you thought you’d left behind in middle school.
Jewish comedian Alison Leiby gets this. Midway through her 70-minute standup show, ‘Oh God, A Show About Abortion,’ she takes a minute to talk about how birth control, often presented as an unequivocal boon to women, can actually kind of suck.
She quips that Mirena and Kyleena, two hormonal IUDs on the market, sound more like the names of high school bullies than reliable barriers to pregnancy. Then there’s ParaGuard, the non-hormonal IUD, which can worsen periods — a non-starter for Lieby, whose uterus already ‘acts like it shops at Forever 21. Every three weeks, it’s like, ‘This is trash.’
As its title suggests, Leiby’s show, currently running at the Cherry Lane Theater, details her unplanned pregnancy and her choice to have an abortion. Yet as much as Leiby orients her set around this one big taboo, she addresses the many smaller taboos that persist about women’s bodies and their sex lives. ‘Oh God’ invites us to laugh at and thus dispel the contrast between virtuous femininity and the sometimes scary, always messy reality of living in a body that can make a baby.
Known for her work as a writer on ‘The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel’ and ‘Broad City,’ Leiby takes the stage each night in the same outfit: a black t-shirt, black jeans and blue Gucci loafers that she repeatedly cites as proof of her financial unpreparedness for motherhood. She looks like a cool friend who knows where to get an espresso martini. On the night I went to see ‘Oh God,’ she faced a mostly-female audience shaken by the recent leak of a Supreme Court decision overturning Roe v. Wade and looking for something to laugh at.
On the laughs front, Leiby always comes through, mining her life for one-liners and elaborate bits. She was on tour in Missouri in 2019 when her cycle-tracking app warned her that her period was late. After peeing into a cup (actually, a crystal scotch glass, the only available vessel in her hotel room) and confirming she was pregnant, Leiby knew exactly what she needed to do. She dialed up Planned Parenthood and, despite a lifetime of support for reproductive rights, found herself whispering, as if in shame, that she needed an abortion.
Leiby experienced what may soon become an impossibility for many: an easy abortion. She doesn’t have any agonizing memories or bureaucratic hurdles to pad out her set.
Instead, she digresses frequently into different moments of her reproductive life. She riffs on gender-segregated anatomy lessons that crystalized sex as a subject of shame, and vague parental injunctions: ‘You can get stuff from oral, too,’ Leiby recalls her mother saying during a pre-college shopping trip. As a 30-something, Leiby describes watching her friends perform contented, effortless motherhood while defending her own choice not to have children. She depicts herself as a houseplant-murdering incompetent unfit for motherhood, as if you can’t be a good plant mom without wanting real kids.
Leiby is skilled at turning the joke on those who would remain ignorant of women’s bodies: In one of her funniest anecdotes, she describes undergoing a lower back X-ray and listening to a trio of male neurosurgeons agonizing about a foreign object near her pelvis. It takes a female nurse to identify the object as a tampon. Perhaps because of this, the ease with which she describes her actual abortion — at the Planned Parenthood in Soho — is unsurprising. Asked during a pre-procedure sonogram if she wanted to know whether the fetus had a heartbeat, Leiby says, ‘You can fax that to Mitch McConnell. I don’t really care about it, but he seems to care a lot.’
Jokes aside, Leiby makes a pointed argument: To normalize abortion, we need to talk about it more often and more frankly. Her unapologetic attitude does sometimes feel profoundly transgressive. It was liberating to hear someone say aloud that she didn’t like what birth control did to her body, that she didn’t take it, and that she didn’t feel guilty about needing an abortion as a result.
Yet this argument was far more viable when Roe was a settled precedent than it is now. Millennials like Leiby, and like me, grew up at a time when the work of reproductive freedom seemed to lie with reducing social stigma around abortion or easing the financial or logistical obstacles to obtaining this procedure. Now, we may soon face formidable legal barriers in a majority of states. Leiby, who reportedly learned of the Roe leak while eating dinner after a run of her show, gestures to the increased importance of frank talk about abortion in an era when our rights are being ‘legislated away.‘ But the effort of normalization only goes so far if abortions are impossible to legally obtain.
Only at the very end of the show does Leiby make clear what we might gain by talking about abortion in this particular, bleak moment. Just as she whispered the word ‘abortion’ to the Planned Parenthood receptionist, she finds herself reluctant to tell her mother about the procedure. When she does, her mother reveals her own pre-Roe abortion, obtained through one of her mother’s Mafia-affiliated business associates. Leiby’s mother, then a teenager, was blindfolded in an empty parking lot and driven to a strange house, where she endured a medically-induced miscarriage without any family or friends to support her.
Leiby’s mother never discussed the procedure with her parents again. And she didn’t tell her daughter until Leiby confided in her. To hear these stories — the ones that truly matter right now, the ones of a world without Roe — we may each have to start a conversation, just as Leiby does every night, onstage.