Grandma raised a lot of kids. She dealt with them as they came, feeding them when she had food, weaving baskets to hold whittled toys, filling green bottles with colored glass to hang around the house at Christmastime.
As her kids grew, they made more kids and gave some back to Grandma. She was pissed, as you can plainly see in this photograph. She and her grandson were just back from the Kraft Kabin. They bought plastic flowers for the ceramic donkey cart he’d just broken with a ball out back by the driveway. That’s right: Grandma had raised so many children she was now an angry crafter.
Couple days ago, the Supreme Court of the United States of America chose the lens through which they would destroy the reproductive rights of 52% of the population: Crafting. This has made me very angry.
I’ve been called a lot of things in my life – bitch, cunt, whore – but I won’t allow anyone to call me crafter. I’ve gotten degrees and written books and traversed the great rivers of Africa, all as an anti-crafting move. I’ve lived like a man and loved like a woman and no one but NO ONE can make me form the base of a Memory Lamp or twist my own Fourth of July bunting with crepe paper. I order mine off amazon, like everyone else.
These crafters the Supreme Court speak off….who has ever seen them? Where I am, the “crafters” are the best doctors, lawyers, scientists, researchers and CEOs the world may have ever seen. One of those crafters just might be the most powerful person in the land soon. Who knows? Stranger things have happened.
So SCOTUS, you’ve called me a crafter and I’m coming for you now. I’m putting on my big girl pants and planning war.
You will not, if I have a say, hurt women through crafting again.