mangrumsNet

Sickening. via Moonbattery:

The butchers at Planned Parenthood only seem like fiends from hell. Actually, they are people, just like the babies they kill. We’ve already seen what a lively sense of humor they have. A former abortion industry worker shares some more termination titters:

It took a few weeks before I got the alarm code to our clinic. I guess it takes that long for them to trust you. I remember getting the code and feeling shocked. The code was 2229. That seems innocent … until they told me what it spelled out … BABY. Really. Wow. We were really joking about that … our alarm code was mocking the murder of children.

A few weeks later I was introduced to our freezer in the POC (products of conception) lab. This was the freezer that held the fetal tissue until the biohazard truck came for disposal. I found out the name for that freezer … the nursery. Again, that was a joke. How had that become a joke?

A few days later I learned the password to our phone system … 2229 … BABY.

A couple years later I remember walking in on my supervisor making jokes with the abortionist and another employee in that same POC lab. They were joking about how the fetal tissue floating in this dish looked like bar-b-que. Did I hear that right? Did they really just say that? Then one of them said, “I actually think this part looks like strawberry jam.”

What’s really side-splitting is sharing these jokes with people who value the sanctity of innocent life:

About a year before I left, the Coalition for Life group had moved in next door to our clinic. We joked about sending them a “welcome to the neighborhood” gift. Maybe we should send them cookies in the shape of babies with red icing on them that resembles blood. We laughed. We thought we were so witty.

Did I say these moonbats aren’t fiends from hell? Let me rethink that.