From My Mailbag

Wouldn't it be fun if I had an actual mailbag, brought to me every morning on the back of a boa constrictor? It would have to have golden tassels with little bells in the four corners and it would always include gifts of chocolate (which I would eat right away), jewelry (which I would sell right away) and brain food.

Now I sadly only get the brain food. And attempts to infect me with malware. Such are the rewards of feminist blogging.

Speaking of my mailbag (I did mention that, didn't I? I didn't spell it malebag?), Violet Socks is having a fund drive because she needs to get new equipment for blogging purposes. Her blog, The Reclusive Leftist, is worth supporting.

A researcher wants to hear the stories of women who have had an abortion in Iowa and who had financial trouble affording it. If you can help, go here.

And a piece wonders where all the women go who start in sciences but end up...where? I wonder how much is lost in that leakage of the pipeline, too, not only by the women themselves but the whole economy.

Three things mentioned. That's good, to go by the rule of three. I have to resort to such mechanical rules because of that dratted flower which ejaculates pollen outside my window thus causing my breathing pipelines to block up. A brain full of pollen might look pretty but efficient it aint.