Summary: They all take care of me: the church, the state, the doctors and judges. For nine months they all wish me the best. I am something precious and they protect me. As an unborn I am supposed to grow and flourish. Ignorant as to my gender, my language and my race -- with meals on tap and free bed and board -- I can have a good time without worrying about what tomorrow brings. You see, we unborn get it good even if we don't know who we are. Come to think of it -- and thinking is something I'm not usually noted for -- for all I know I could be an orangutan or some other life form as my zoological attributes are presently unapparent to me. Such ready scholarship is not my forte and besides I am yet to learn to read or speak and have no idea what my kind looks like. But let's assume I possess 23 chromosomes and may pass my born days as human. Give me nine months to get my X's and XY's together and I'll be dilated to meet you. If you cannot see the audio controls, your browser does not support the audio element Listen now to other episodes of The Blather
