Public Nursing? Just What I Need... More Stimulus

Before I begin this week's column, which does, in fact, contain the word “nipple,” in case you were wondering, I have to take care of some business.

I sold some space to Senator Susan Collins. I am a shameless, sordid twerp.

But you would have done the same thing in my situation. As I wrote several weeks ago, the IRS was holding on to my $900 stimulus payment, probably as punishment for the fact that I filed my tax return early.

I called the IRS hotline about a dozen times, and was told, basically, to go take a long walk off a short pier.

Desperate for the free money I don't deserve, I contacted Senator Collins' office, and offered to mention her responsiveness in my weekly column if she could help me out.

Despite the fact that I have often made fun of Senator Collins' robotic helium voice, the $900 landed in my bank account two days later, with a “thud.”

Coincidence? Maybe. I prefer to see it as proof that our mammoth bureaucratic government still responds to the concerns of any ordinary citizen who has his own semi-syndicated newspaper column. Democracy works!

Now, on to the topic for this week, about which I'm sure Senator Collins feels the exact same way you and I do: public breast feeding.

Recently, BabyTalk magazine featured on its cover a picture of a baby nursing on an actual human breast, causing immense outrage... and rightly so.

Lots of readers wrote in about how the photo was “gross” or otherwise inappropriate. They are absolutely correct: nothing is as disgusting as the sight of a mother feeding her baby the way God intended.

Whenever I see a mother whip out her nipple in public, I shudder. Does she really have to wave it around like that? It's as if she has a giant neon sign that says, “LOOK AT MY BOOB!” Invariably, these reckless degenerate mommies are just looking for an excuse to indulge their exhibitionism. Otherwise, they would simply pump the milk ahead of time, which by all accounts is completely painless and easy, like having an electric razor attached to your nipple for 30 minutes.

And don't give me that “my baby won't take a bottle” excuse. Everyone knows that all babies are the same, and all babies will take a bottle eventually, even if you have to choke them with it for a few hours to convince them.

Sure, from the baby's perspective, nursing is wonderful. It's an opportunity to connect with its mother in an unfamiliar place, and maybe not be so stinkin' hungry for five minutes. But can't they do it in a bathroom stall? I'm sure you'll agree that most public restrooms are wonderful places to eat.

Besides, who says the baby's needs should come ahead of mine? It's a terrible inconvenience for me to not stare at a woman's breast, or (even worse) to reframe my perception of the breast so that it's not 100% sexual.

And it's not just my needs that are being ignored. The medical establishment seems convinced that breast milk is better than formula, but does anyone consider the needs of the formula industry? What about the folks at Gerber? Does anyone care about them?

Breast milk supposedly contains “antibodies,” but how can they be healthy if they are “anti-body,” or against the body? Something is not right here. It's a conspiracy!

I'm going to write to congress. Sadly, it works.

Vacationing in Maine is a Gas

There is still time to rescue your summer vacation plans from the oil industry's sleeper hold.

Why sit at home wishing you were someplace else, when there are plenty of great places right here in the Pine Tree State where you can go and wish you were someplace else?

Chances are you're close enough to one of our under-the-radar vacation destinations that you can squeeze the gas money into your family budget, provided you can fit the entire family onto a used Suzuki motorcycle.

We don't have that luxury, because a certain member of our household insists on taking 65% of our possessions with us every time we leave the house for more than two hours. We squabble over a different item every trip.

“Why do you need to bring hip-waders?”

“You never know – we might need them.”

“We're going to the mall.”

“It doesn't hurt anything to bring them.” She would seem to have a point, except it does hurt me, because I don't get to be right.

Sure enough, that will be the trip when we encounter the flash flood and have to rescue a baby stranded in a floating car.

“See? Aren't you glad we went back for the life jackets, too? And you said they were 'superfluous.'”

So that explains why our giant Ford Taurus station wagon was packed with record-setting density for our three-night camping trip to Blue Hill, which is about an hour from our home.

We crammed so much stuff into the car that it developed its own gravitational pull, and we kept having to stop and peel bicyclists and joggers off the fenders.

Anyway, we finally made it to Blue Hill. If you've ever been to this picturesque coastal town about 20 minutes south of the perpetual knotted nightmare that is Ellsworth, you know that our Ford Taurus packed with random household objects, including whole sofa sections tied to the roof, did not exactly fit in. Blue Hill is more of a Subaru kind of town.

With a population of about 2400 mostly pleasant and relatively diverse (only 85% hippies) people, Blue Hill is certainly fascinating.

For one thing, it's one of the few places in Maine where you can enjoy a cup of organic tea, bring your child to yoga class, and get attacked by a giant horde of bloodthirsty insects, all without leaving town.

They also have the famous Blue Hill Falls, which are just like any other class III rapids except they keep changing direction. You could be relaxing in your kayak, thinking you're headed inland, and the next thing you know you're at the freaking Panama Canal, trying to explain to some surly customs agent who does not speak English that no, you are not some coked-up B-list celebrity on a pathetic publicity stunt.

If you lived near falls like that, chances are you'd turn into a nature-worshiping flower child, too.

There is also supposedly an actual hill in Blue Hill, with a hiking trail and everything, but I've never been able to find it.

Anyway, once we got our tent set up in a friend's yard, we spent a relaxing weekend socializing, visiting beaches, and dodging crop dusters.

All in all, it was a lovely vacation, and we even managed to sell parts of our sofa to pay for the gas to get us home.