Have a Ha-Ha-Happy New Year with Laughter Yoga!

And don't forget, January 28, 2012 is Fun at Work Day. What could be more fun than a Laughter Yoga session in your workplace!

www.njlaughter.com

A laughter Yoga Holiday Card

New Gift Items Featuring My Digital Art: "In My Cups"

See it here!

Adventures in SmartPhone Land

To say that I have just joined the ranks of smart phone users with my recent purchase of an Android phone, is really untrue. Way back in 2003 or 2004 I owned a VOQ phone. This phone had a phone pad that opened into a keyboard, and with it, I could access the web, email and chat systems. The phone had a tiny joystick that served as a mouse. With that phone, and its small screen I amazed my friends and coworkers who had previously only seen such tricks performed by a Blackberry.  My reputation as an ahead-of-the-curve geek was preserved.

The VOQ phone, however, soon fell out of favor in the United States, and when I wore out the joystick with my enthusiastic web and email surfing, there was no way to get it repaired or replaced. Around this time a little thing called the iPhone made its debut, and before long, the race was on to dominate the smart phone market, create millions of apps, and of course, create expensive "data plans" that are required to keep these phones going.

Since I was forced into austerity budget measures at the time, I could neither afford the fancy new smart phones, nor the dataplans to run them. I sat on the sidelines watching people fall in love with their iPhones, become addicted to their Crackberries, and generally leave me behind in the technology dust. It was humiliating. Worst of all was the explosion of QR Codes and my inability to access the secrets they unlocked. Sometimes I just wanted to shout "remember when I was the only one with a smartphone?"

I must confess to a certain small measure of smug self-satisfaction when some of these phone began having issues with operating systems, faulty upgrades, poor cell phone service and fleeting battery life. While others were dealing with phone "bricks" and multiple trips to the various cell phone repair stores, I was motoring along with my simple flip phone, making calls and sending texts like a pro.

This all changed in 2011 when a Black Friday deal made a 4G android phone available for only a penny, and a certain cell phone provider offered a dataplan that was not much more than what I was paying for my "unsmart" phone. I was hooked. The fact that I could keep my old phone number sealed the deal and proudly paid my penny.

When the phone arrived, it needed to be activated, a process that seemed very simple, according the the enclosed directions. This is when I learned that some things, like clueless customer service, have not changed. Waiting endlessly on hold to get to a live person has not changed either. And, as I have experienced with everything from internet service to medical insurance, the process of needing to speak to at least four people has not changed. But eventually, the phone was activated and I was immediately mesmerized by my new toy.

I put in my contacts, even importing everyone's photos directly from Facebook. I snapped photo after photo with the 5 mp camera on the phone, and downloaded a camera app that let me take photos with all kinds of special effects. I was able to view video of my granddaughter and decorate my home screen with "live" holiday wallpaper featuring snowfall. And yes! I could access all the QR codes I could find, including ones I had created myself for work!

My introduction to SmartPhone Land was not complete however. Apparently, even today, no one can escape the curse of the "brick" phone. For me, it is an endless loop telling me that TWLauncher isn't operating and must be force closed. Unfortunately, TWLauncher is like the door at the Mines of Moria, and if you don't know the secret password/reset button combination - you never get back into your phone. I tried every solution I could find in Android forums, but all roads still lead me back to same loop.  I have now made an appointment at a cell phone store to see what they can do. I am not so smug now.

"Treading Water" now available for Nook

Click here for Nook

Click here for Kindle and Print Edition

Free Excerpt From "Treading Water"

In addition to the excerpt printed at the What's Your Mom Story blog, I am also printing another mother-related excerpt here. To order "Treading Water" see my webpage at www.noreensdigitaldreams.com

I’ve Got You Under My Skin, Kid

by Noreen Braman

Medical science recently discovered that women who have been pregnant might carry cells from the child in their body for decades after the birth. And those same children show evidence of having cells from their mother in their bodies for a lifetime. Finally, a scientific explanation for some of the dynamics of family life.

Mothers invariably have a certain radar for when “things aren’t right.” The kids are too quiet or they’ve been out too long or there is just a nagging feeling inside that for the most part, fathers are clueless about. How many times do we read a story about a child’s rare illness, diagnosed only when doctor after doctor found nothing, and mom insisted on one more test. Sure, we all acknowledge this is a mother’s instinct, but now, we finally have scientific proof of how it might work.

I am probably carrying around with me, some cells from all three of my children. Cells that swim around in the bloodstream, basically doing nothing until they are awakened by messages from the cells in my child’s body. I don’t know how this would work exactly, but perhaps there is some kind of wireless, cellular Internet – or maybe they use cell phones. The result is, the child cells in my body start swimming as fast as they can up to my brain where they pull the emergency cord and my train of thought screeches to a halt. I am immediately consumed with concern for the involved child and must track him or her down right away. “How did my mom know!” is often the surprised reaction. Especially when a truant child bounces into the house after a day spent avoiding school, only to find Mom standing there, home from work a full three hours early.

Now that we know that mothers and children are forever connected by these interloper cells, perhaps they can be used to our advantage. Mom’s cells in the child’s body can be trained to monitor a teenager’s driving, automatically imposing a 40 mph speed limit. Grass could be cut and garbage taken out without nagging – and that wild boyfriend with the nose ring – he could be history.

Of course, eventually, the children will find out how to activate their own cells in mom’s body. Phone calls will no longer begin with “so you haven’t called in three weeks, good thing I’m not dead …” Twins and close siblings will no longer be outfitted in matching clothes and paraded around the neighborhood. Becoming a lawyer or a doctor will be something pursued because of interest, not just because Mom wants one in the family!

Perhaps this isn’t such a good idea after all.

(c)2011 Noreen Braman an excerpt from "Treading Water."

Humor Writer Releases Book In Time for National Lifewriting Month | PRLog

Humor Writer Releases Book In Time for National Lifewriting Month | PRLog

Veteran's Day 11-11-11

To honor all our military veterans,  a poem from WWI, that Linus recites in the video "What Have We Learned, Charlie Brown?"

In Flanders Fields
by John McCrae   

In Flanders fields the poppies grow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place, and in the sky,
The larks, still bravely singing, fly,
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead; short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe!
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high!
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Halloween Story

For those who didn't see it in my newsletter, here is an old favorite Halloween story of mine. Happy Halloween!

Pull Cord for Nurse

(c) Noreen Braman

Emily hated working late. The turn-of-the-century hospital building that now housed her office was creepy enough during the day. After dark, building would creak and moan, making it easy to believe the stories about the former hospital - tales of experiments and mysterious deaths. The hospital staff had been absolutely fascinated with electric devices, haphazardly running wires to power all sorts of gadgets, including hundreds of little boxes with strings hanging from them, each one labeled "pull cord for nurse."

No one had bothered removing these boxes when the building was converted to offices. Every so often, a persistent ringing or buzzing coming from some distant room would require hours of work by the electrician to find the source and shut it down; blown fuses were common. Out of desperation, the office staff had become quite adept at pulling wires and changing the old glass fuses.

Tonight, Emily hoped she wouldn't have any electrical problems, she didn't feel like stumbling around in the dark utility closet to change a fuse. But around 9 PM, with only a little flicker as a warning, the lights went out. Emily sighed and reached into her desk drawer for the flashlight. Then, she headed down the hall toward the utility room, her footsteps echoing eerily in the empty building. Swinging the flashlight around, she searched the floor for the piece of wood they used to prop open the heavy metal door, then turned to open the fuse box. Suddenly, the door crashed shut behind her. She jumped and dropped the flashlight, which immediately went out. Frantically, she dropped to her hands and knees, feeling along the floor for the light, but she couldn't find it. Although she knew she had been alone in the building, she pounded on the door, screaming for someone to come open it. Terrified at the thought of being stuck in the utility closet all night, she ran her hands along the walls for anything that might help her get out. Behind some pipes, she felt the shape of a box with a string hanging from it. In desperation, she pulled the cord, and to her great surprise, there came the sound of a bell ringing somewhere deep in the recesses of the building. Emily yanked on the cord incessantly, hoping that someone would hear her.

After what seemed like an eternity, Emily heard footsteps in the hall, slow, shuffling steps that were coming closer. "I'm in here!" she shouted. "Come open the door!" She pounded on the utility room door as the slow footsteps became louder and louder. "Hurry!" she yelled, but the footsteps continued at their slow, shuffling pace.

Finally, they stopped, right outside the door. The old doorknob turned back and forth. Emily pushed on the door. It flew open and Emily fell headfirst out into the hallway. She sat up and rubbed her shoulder, and tried to see in the darkness who had rescued her.

"Thank you," she began, then gasped. Standing above her, glowing dimly in the dark, was someone half -human, half corpse, wearing the tattered remnants of a uniform and nurse's cap.

A skeletal hand reached toward Emily and a low raspy voice said "It's time for your medicine."

In the creature's other rotten hand was a hypodermic needle, filled with a glowing blue liquid. Emily screamed and tried to crawl away. A rancid hand fastened on her leg with a surprisingly strong grip. With her free leg she kicked at the glowing needle, knocking it from the nurse's hand. The nurse hissed furiously, and let go of Emily.

Emily scrambled to her feet and stumbled down the dark hall. Behind her, the nurse had picked up the needle and was shuffling toward her. "It's time for your medicine!" she wailed.

The old hospital building seemed to creak and groan in response. As Emily raced down the hallway, the doorknobs of each room she passed shook violently, and there was pounding on the doors as if someone was trying to get out. She looked behind her to see the nurse coming closer and closer, needle raised above her glowing skull. "It's time for your medicine!" she shrieked.

Emily careened down the hall, until she finally saw the outline of the front door. Outside, the lights of the parking lot glowed brightly. Emily swung open the door and ran out into the night.

Inside the hospital, the nurse watched Emily run away. Silence descended on the building as she shuffled back down the winding halls of the building. Slowly, she lowered her decaying body into the rusted chair at the forgotten nurse's station. She put the glowing needle back on the desk with the others, and folded her bony fingers in front of her on the desk. There would be other patients who needed her, and she would wait there as she was trained to do. Forever.

Self-Publishing: The Debate is Over

Self-Publishing: The Debate is Over

Treading Water Hits the Kindle Store

For those of you who have followed my blogs, my stint as LOL Editor and EWG Presents, my various published pieces scattered among magazines and anthologies - here is news for you! Now you can get all your favorite pieces together in one place in my new Kindle format book, Treading Water. If you are a new reader, Treading Water is a damp collection of essays and columns  from the Evil Pants series to The House orf Rhyming Pests and other tales of watery adventures, misbehaving dogs, careful plans gone awry and varmints of all kinds that don't give up!

use this link to order:

No Kindle? No problem! Download free reader software!

My response to Occupy Wall Street

Ten Years Later, the Scars of 9-11 Remain

The Day the Earth Stood Still

I remember stepping out of the shower

images on the television, a building engulfed in flames.

Thought it was coming attractions of “Collateral Damage”

a movie discussed earlier,

the screams of Katie Couric told me otherwise.

Wrapped in a towel, staring at the images, mind so filled with horror

no discernible words formed.

Dressing robotically,  confused as to what I was seeing

the second plane confirmed the intent.

I remember radio voices,

Scott and Todd, reporting what they were hearing

and seeing – voices choked with shock –

in Dr.Uray’s office – the nurses were weeping and trembling

all with children somewhere in the city.

We listened to Todd, or maybe it was Scott, wail in disbelief as the first tower

fell to earth, Dr. Uray corralled her staff – saying they must do their job in times of war, her face grave with past remembrance, her mouth set in a line of determination.

I remember calling the office to say I couldn’t possibly come in,

my boss Morgan said many were leaving anyway,

others sat silent in the conference room,

soundless except for whispered descriptions for those without sight,

of the unfolding  results of  incomprehensible acts.

Later would come the stories of Michael Hingson and his guide dog Roselle – escaping from the dust, debris and chaos, but that day, we saw nothing but death and destruction.

I remember going to my sister Theresa’s house

she hadn’t heard from her husband,  a supervisor at UPS, who often subbed for drivers on the World Trade Center Route.

The kids trickled home from school , we tried to shield the youngest, Robert,

Through many many anxious hours before his father walked in the door.

I remember going home to my house,

my daughter Annemarie and my son Roy Michael, on the deck

surrounded by football players and cheerleaders

silent and subdued they clung to each other powerlessly,

all knowing someone with someone in the city.

I worried about my oldest, on campus at Montclair University,

no phone calls would connect.

The greatest fear of a mother is to be separated from her children in a calamity or disaster. Without her home where I could see, her, touch her – was unbearable,  on a day where all was unbearable.

I remember from a high point in Monroe,

a place now covered with a gated community, 

we saw the smoke pluming miles into the sky

– a sky devoid of air traffic of any kind – creating a deafening silence the seemed to halt the Earth in its rotation, hold it motionless in orbit,  rendering us unable to draw a breath.

I remember night fell, but it was only darkness; sleep wrenched from it,  leaving only nightmares behind.

© 2011 Noreen Braman

Living on the Smile Side of Life - 4 week class in Monroe Township

Living on the Smile Side of Life - 4 wk class in Monroe Twp. Starts 9-13. For info see: http://www.noreensdigitaldreams.com/NJLaughter/tabid/76/Default.aspx

Warren Buffet and me are peers!

After reading Warren Buffet's article yesterday about raising taxes on the rich - I thought wow, what a good idea. Today, I realize, just asking them to pay their fair share is enough. When Buffet indicated that he paid around $6,000 in taxes,  I realized that it isn't all that much more than I paid - and way less than the flogging I took from the IRS when I had to tap my 403B early (by ONE year) in order to keep out of foreclosure and bankruptcy after I was laid off in 2009. We working people who are not "too big to fail" are scrambling to stay afloat. How about a tax break for those forced to hit retirement funds because of job loss? How about a loophole for those who have to invest in home and car repairs?  But of course, I am being ridiculous. After all, it was Reagan who promised us that we would benefit from the "trickle down effect" of giving tax breaks to the rich.  And that trickle should start any day now.

Warren Buffet Tells It Like It Is - or Should Be!

Finally, one of the "super-rich" takes Congress to task about their tax policies. 

How Much Do Today's Students Use Technology?

This is a great infographic and good info for anyone in communications that wants to reach this demographic.
Via:

PJ Pals Photo Contest | Grandparents.com

"Vote for my sweet dreamer as the cutest sleeping baby!"

Any grandparent will confirm: there's nothing more precious than kids in PJs. Vote on each photo below.

View >>

Rats Using Poison to Protect Themselves

In keeping with the name of this blog, here is some rodent news. Love them or hate them, you have to admit, rats know how to adapt.

 Rats Using Poison

2011 is Half Over!

At a recent meeting about personal branding, the subject of blogs was brought up. Feelings about them ranged from "fun to read" to "what a waste of time." Interestingly, the most popular question was "Who has time to do this?"

It made me realize, since my "I'm 50, Now What?" blog, I've been woefully inconsistent here, with the exception of the poetry challenge each April. It also made me think of what a fellow writer said about finding time to "write that novel." She said, the things you really want to do, you find the time for. The rest, you just complain you don't have the time for it.

Seems I need to make some more time for:

Writing.

Exercising.

Gardening.

Laughing.

Blogging.

Because, 2011 is already half over.

Bringing Laughter Yoga to New Jersey

For more information: www.njlaughter.com

 or email NJ Laughter Yoga

National Poetry Month 2011 NAPOWRIMO April 27

Domestic Poltergeist

Ever the open minded skeptic,
horror reader and ghost tale writer,
scoffer of spirit orbs, believer of dreams—
sudden sufferer of missing objects
eyeglasses, coffee cups, one rhinestone-studded Sketcher,
surely the work of supernatural forces
and not related at all to age.

(c)2011 Noreen Braman

National Poetry Month 2011 NAPOWRIMO April 26

Unfinished Poems

cracked like pottery in a collapsed tomb
colorful fragments heaped in disjointed piles
hours, weeks, months devoted to restoring
a recognizable form
which may or may not
be a thing of beauty
or a thing of utility
or a random assemblage of words.


(c)2011 Noreen Braman

National Poetry Month 2011 NAPOWRIMO April 25

Sin of Omission

Just pick it up, like dropped stitches
don't unravel the whole thing
or halt the pen, the brush, the needle
to whine or mourn the blowing sand
fill the paper, the canvas, the workbasket
with the work of the day at your hands.

(c)2011 Noreen Braman

National Poetry Month 2011 NAPOWRIMO April 19

www.featherblessings.com

Feather Blessings

Desperation, not greed
put all of them under my pillow
with faint hope that one
would float over my sleep
and bestow a gift
to ease my pain.
Prosperity and Health
flirt unabashedly
alternately smiling and pouting
teasing gently - barely showing
the dark underside of their wings.
Love hovers closely with soft embraces
a downy envelope of comfort
which allows Peace to fly high
illuminating the path
no longer strewn with broken glass.

(c)2011 Noreen Braman

NAPOWRIMO 2011 April 18, 2011

Persephone in 2011

Wintering in the Underworld
like a snowbird flown to Florida
with all of the heat
and none of the light
and plenty of old codgers
leering at my eternal youthfulness
knowing just the touch of my foot
above ground brings the life
they can never again create.
They grovel at the foot of my dark throne
not daring to speak my name
and watch with leaden hearts
as I ascend into the light.

(c)2011 Noreen Braman

NAPOWRIMO 2011 April 16 & 17, 2011

April 16, 2011

The Obligatory Poetry Month Limerick

The writers of poetry know
that a limerick's the wrong way to go
if expecting to meet
the "poetry elite"
serious sonnets are more apropos.

(c)Noreen Braman

April 17, 2011

At the Writing Desk

Cleaning the keyboard helps me think
enough dog hair to knit a new dog
and crumbs of unrecognizable origin.
The dust on the screen may actually be
remains of the wall spackling from last spring
still swirling in invisible streams
each time the forced air heat comes on.
Three pens that don't write
a photo printer out of ink -
stuff I only notice
when I run out of words.

(c)2011 Noreen Braman

National Poetry Month 2011 NAPOWRIMO April 15

Family Time

The wives tales were right they grew up in blink
toddlers to adults with no time to think
how time would rush by while they burst into bloom
how my heart would expand to give them more room
to grow their own lives and stretch their own wings
as we experience together all that life brings.

(c)2011 Noreen Braman

National Poetry Month 2011 NAPOWRIMO April 14

Wrong Number Roulette

Months now, answering calls
meant for a vote-in TV show
playing nationwide all hours of the day
they won't change their newly-minted number
we won't change our years-of-tradition number
one digit differentiates the two.
I don't ask for whom the phone rings
every time the hot line lights up
i worry about a real client
trying to get through
and hearing me not listening
but just saying
"sorry, wrong number."

(c)2011 Noreen Braman

National Poetry Month 2011 NAPOWRIMO April 13

Left in the Dust

distance brings perspective
measurement on a grander scale
but the grit in my eye still hurts
no matter how far the horizon retreats
or the growing darkness depletes the view.
best to turn around and face the unfamiliar
as night rotates slowly to dawn
illuminating a path of possibilities.

(c)2011 Noreen Braman

National Poetry Month 2011 NAPOWRIMO April 12

Anniversary

No flowers in the church
all the statues draped in purple
no music, a silent procession.
a Lenten wedding frowned on
but Korea was calling the Marine
his new bride to keep house alone.

(c)2011 Noreen Braman

National Poetry Month 2011 NAPOWRIMO April 10 & 11

4-10-11
 Sunday Night

Weekend over
staying up too late
sleep brings the rush hour

4-11-10
Monday Morning

email is offline
Friday's problems still remain
quitting time comes quickly

(c)2011 Noreen Braman

NaPoWriMo April 9, 2011

Unpunctuated

Each year
I fill a space
with poems
words hit the page
like April rain
hoping to nourish
a seed of
beauty

(c)2011 Noreen Braman

NaPoWriMo April 8, 2011

In the Eagle Nest

the fearsome, feathered hunter
wields deadly beak and talon
in swift strikes from the sky,
but in her lofty windswept nest
she is soft and slow and silent
as she shelters chicks in her wings.

(c)2011 Noreen Braman

National Poetry Month 2011 NAPOWRIMO April 7

Maybe It's Not Poetry

Finally the numbers flow in rhythm across the page
lining up like perfect sonnets,
feeding into kaleidoscopic jewel-tone pie charts
rolling as easily off the printer
as pretty words out of my pen
majestically choreographed and inspired
by the all-seeing and all-knowing gods
of the relational database.
maybe it's not poetry to you
but it is epic verse to me.

(C)2011 Noreen Braman

National Poetry Month 2011 NAPOWRIMO April 6

Not My Mother's Daughter

a birthday haiku

my years now equal

her total span of living

but I am still here.

(c)2011 Noreen Braman

National Poetry Month 2011 NAPOWRIMO April 5

Reinvention #3

Two years from that sharp turn
in a road that was rarely straight
yet could still lull the most careful driver
into the rocks and gravel on the shoulder.

Two years from steering so close to the edge
that daylight blinked under the tires
and sand showered down the embankment
the wheel muscled into last minute response.

Two years that started with smoking brakes
on the downhill, desperate hopes for no oncoming traffic
settling at last in the valley of potholes
rough driving but at least no more panic
just a bumpy, slow ride on uneven pavement.



(c)2011 Noreen Braman

National Poetry Month 2011 NAPOWRIMO April 4

MOTTO

Live with an open mind to
see the unseen
hear the unheard
feel the unfelt
learn the unlearned
hope the unhoped
to open the heart to love.

(C)2011 Noreen Braman

National Poetry Month NaPoWriMo April 3, 2011

Blanket

The measured threads
untouched by shears
woven with love
for the one to come.

(C)2011 Noreen Braman

NAPOWRIMO 2011 April 2, 2011

In Search of Lucid Dreaming

She wants to know where she will live now,
I remind her she is dead.
She talks about the sailing ship
she is supposed to board
I tell her she is meant to go
I remind her she is dead.
Tonight I must grasp her hand
and hold her in my gaze
and ask her to speak plainly
so that we both may rest.

(c)2011 Noreen Braman

NaPoWriMo 2011 April 1

April 1, 2011

April wakes up dizzy
dream phantoms circling
wet snow slapping the window
vague uneasiness heavy on her chest
the night had not been restful.
She goes out in the predawn
to where the sun should be rising
to relieve battered March
of a year bathed in chaos.

(c)2011 Noreen Braman

National Poetry Month 2011 Starts Friday

Getting Ready for National Poetry Month 2011

Forsythia Window by Noreen Braman

April is approaching, and this April fool (born on the 7th) will once again be taking the National Poetry Month challenge to write a poem a day for the entire month. To start the creativity flowing, and also as a response to the snow we have been having for the past 2 days, here is a headstart poem.


March in New Jersey

One false spring warm day
undoes weeks of patient waiting
and joyful crocus reaching sunward
end up enrobed in snow.

One false spring warm day
encourages coatlessness
and barefoot garden explorations
gloveless hands caressing forsythia buds.

One false spring warm day
strengthens the almost-mute siren call
of ocean and sand and sun
until exhausted winter retreats.




(c)2011 Noreen Braman 
 

My St. Patrick's Day Sodabread Article

Sure and if it isn't that time of year again. Time to link you to my favorite Irish sodabread recipe. Enjoy!

 Just like Grandma Never Baked.

Bye-Bye Borders

I was saddened this past weekend to enter a favorite Borders store only to find it sporting "store closing" signs. It is the second Borders store I frequented that is closing, and at this point, I don't know if there will be one anywhere within reasonable driving distance for me. It looks like their late entry into the e-reader market may be a big cause of their downfall. Their struggle does provide an example for businesses of all types, as highlighted in this article:

What Associations Can Learn from Borders’ Struggles: Amazons On The Border

HARVEST • by Noreen Braman | Every Day Poets

A poem published today by Everyday Poets.

HARVEST • by Noreen Braman | Every Day Poets

Are Uterus Police in Our Future?

The miscarriage I experienced in 1983 is one of the most devastating experiences of my life. I remember sitting in my rocking chair, holding my toddler daughter, both of us rocking and crying. I remember a former boss, upon meeting my husband in town, saying to him "well you didn't want another baby this soon, anyway, did you?" Until now, I thought that was most insensitive, thoughtless and hurtful thing that could be said to anyone going through such a loss. I can not believe that if an ignorant legislator from Georgia has his way, that women in his state who lose babies will actually have to endure an "investigation" into whether or not the miscarriage happened "naturally." In affect, he wants to create Uterus Police who will invade your HIPPA-guaranteed privacy, insult your intelligence and question your motives and health status. And if those Uterus Police decide that your loss did not occur "naturally," that you will be charged with "fetal murder."

Of course this is an obvious attempt to reveal to the ultraconservatives who in their community may or may not have had an abortion - a way for them to get their hands on Federally-protected information and further their anti-abortion agenda. This legislation is a disgusting affront to women, no matter what one's views of abortion are, and most likely it will never be passed into law. However, the fact that anyone could even propose such barbaric legislation in itself should be a crime.

If you can stand to read the actual bill, click here.