Have you recovered from the National Council for Adoption’s big Stay-at-Home Gala last night?
I just pulled myself out of bed after a night of amended birth certificate burning, heavy boozing, and indiscriminate sex with my local street gang celebrating how adoption has improved my life. (left) As I stumbled into the kitchen to mix myself some hair of the dog and feed the angry kitties, I decided to check my email. And am I ever glad I did! Right there between Facebook messages and a credit card bill I found a note from NCFA and “children everywhere waiting to be adopted,” thanking me for my generous support of adoption. With my help, NCFA was able to raise $14,000 “to benefit vital NCFA programs that help find families for children who are waiting to be adopted.” Or is that programs that help adoption agencies harvest pregos who are waiting to give birth? Or is that programs that help find other people’s children for waiting middle-aged couples who feel entitled to them? I’m so confused
Sadly, it seems that the mailman failed to deliver those 6,000,000 cards bastards sent thanking NCFA for protecting us from ourselves and our deviant histories. Thanks. NCFA, for making us legal pariahs. If it saves just one from the truth, then it’s worth it.
If you’d like to see NCFA’s own personal gala, go here for some rousing pictures at the NCFA mill. I know they make me hungry for a Domino’s Pizza.
Wow! This hangover has me drained! I’m up for a fight! Seems I have to keep reminding you bastards that, technically, I’m not a bastard. I’m a half-orphan. You guys know that already, but NCFA wouldn’t know the difference ’cause they treat us all the same.
Do you suppose that’s because the law sealing and falsifying our birth certificates makes us all bastards? Yep. Wasn’t the law invented to erase bastardy by legitimizing bastards through adoption? Things were supposed to be squeaky clean after we got our new, improved birth certificates. I don’t think their plan worked as well as they thought it would.
I remember walking up to the Bastard Nation table at an American Adoption Conference in 1996 or 1997. I bought a T-shirt and asked why I should join Bastard Nation if I, technically, wasn’t a bastard. I think it was Damsel Plum who answered me: “Because the law treats us all like bastards, and we are taking back the word.” I liked her answer.
Because I’ve been fighting my own demons of depression, panic attacks, flashbacks and other symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress brought on by adoption, I haven’t been around much since meeting Ms Plum. But thanks to the NCFA, I’ve really come full circle to appreciate my certified bastardy: the only birth certificate worthy to present to the Passport Office for either my enhanced driver’s license, or, my passport, is the one that says I was born to the parents who actually, factually, adopted me. Talk about Homeland Security. Let’s go over the facts; just the facts, Ma’m. My facts are truly different from what’s on this piece of paper, but the government doesn’t care.
See, I live on the US-Canada border, in Buffalo, New York. All of my life, we could hop in a car and drive over to Canada for lunch, stroll along for a leisurely view of Niagara Falls in an afternoon, and drive home along the Canadian side’s scenic view bringing us back home over the Peace Bridge at dusk. And all without the hassle of proving who we are. Now, we have until June to get an enhanced driver’s license, or a passport, to hop over the border for fun.
Crap. No more smuggling this orphan-disguised-as-a-bastard-disguised-as-a-non-bastard over the border! My papers are false! Does the government care? Heck, no! Present your BIRTH CERTIFICATE and get your REAL ID to go over the border now!
At 53, I’m pissed that I have to pawn off this garbage as documentation, as proof, of my birth. I was NOT born to the mother on this CERTIFIED BIRTH CERTIFICATE! She and her husband ADOPTED me.
I demand that the fraudulent, certified, false birth certificate be voided, and an ADOPTION CERTIFICATE be issued in its place! And, while that’s being issued, give me back my REAL birth certificate! THAT would tell the truth!
How’s THAT for a rude hangover wake-up, NCFA?!
Got an aspirin? Maybe two will take away the pain, no, give me the whole bottle. No, Niagara Falls is up the street 10 miles. Suicide sounds like a good way to settle this. Get the picture, NCFA? Stop the lies!