The Real Planned Parenthood Scandal

Oh no! Mr. Bill!

Since the scandalous Planned Parenthood video came out, showing PP selling aborted body parts for fetal research, I've been hankering to get to the bottom of it. Some claim these are heavily spliced and diced "hit" tapes; others say these show the real PP agenda to pressure women to have abortions for fun and profit. Well now, Refuters, I have the real scoop for you.

I marched myself down to my local PP clinic and demanded to see the "baby murderers." The receptionist scrolled her fingers down her handy directory and directed me to the basement level, Room B3-A. I found B3-A, which was also dubbed "Baby Food." I knocked on the door. There, I meet a bespectacled gentlemen who introduced himself as Jip Bilkumoore. "Enter," he said, a little stiffly.

To my surprise, a found myself within a small but well-equipped industrial kitchen. Over Dr. Bilkumoore's ("Call me Jip") shoulder, I saw a hibachi puffing away on a stainless steel table. A fan whirred above it to clear the smoke.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Let me shew you," said Jip, who had a slight Asian accent.

He led me over to the grill. "These are baby thighs, prepared with a nice paprika and sugar dry rub, which we will finish off with a Jack Daniels Original No. 7 BBQ sauce." I was speechless as he continued. "It's best to keep the coals low, you know, a dull grey, with just a little red showing. The meat is only an ounce and a half, so they only take about fifteen minutes to finish. I have some ready here. Want to try some? Wery, wery good."

"Hell no! I mean, no thank you."

"Let me shew you another of our delights," said Jip. He led me over to the referigator and took out a twelve ounce jar with strange little pink things packed into what looked like some kind of brine.

"Pickled Fetus Fingers!" he announced. That's disgusting, I thought.

"Unctuous! Best to harvest them at twenty-one weeks. Then they have a nice delicate crunch, like a Cheese Puff. Have one!"

I held my hand up in stern refusal. Eager to change the subject, I pointed to the activity across the room. "What are they doing?" I asked.

"Oh, they're making Baby Back Ribs," said Jip. "They come with our own special sauce. I can't give you the recipe, but we call it 'Cannibal Cauldron'. We're working with a bottler to sell it at Whole Foods. The hold up is agreeing on the ingredients list we're willing to put on the label."

Jip suddenly became extra earnest. "Oh!" he said, "let me show you something else." He led me over to a stack of oversize books.

He set one on a table for me to admire. "This a preprint of our recipe book, to be published this Fall."

It was a coffee table book titled Beyond Partial Birth: Cuisine From The Womb. Outrageous! Jip opened it up to show me one of his favorite recipes. It was called Baby Brain Pansit.

"Instead of pork or chicken, you feature baby brains, along with your veggies, such as snow peas, celery, carrots, and what not, with your rice sticks and nicely seasoned with Patis and Toyomansi. We've also suggested the elegant touch of serving the dish inside the top of the cranium with a sprinkle of chives."

My stomach turned over. I pulled out my iPhone. "Mind if I snap a few photos for the record?"

"You bet we do," answered The Chorus. I was suddenly surrounded by the kitchen staff, which pushed me toward the door like the incoming high tide. Jip stood behind them with his arms folded. "You ought to know better," he said petulantly.

Men in chef coats pushed me out the door and I landed on my butt in the hallway. When the door slammed, I rubbed my eyes and gazed at the local address: B3-A Baby Food. That is beyond ironic.

As I walked back to my car, you will know I was definitely on the side of defunding Planned Parenthood. If we can't defund the whole outfit, we should at least defund their devil's kitchen. For you skeptics, I swear to hell I saw this and I hadn't been drinking. Who are you going to believe: you or my lying eyes?