My angel texted me this morning from her new job (she quit Dunkin Donuts after being docked 75 cents for giving a Lab a donut rather than just the hole). She’s considering IT training. Sometimes, she follows the news and texts me about it.

Hey, she said, you following this Michigan story when a legislator named Lisa Brown was silenced by a bunch of stupid men for using the word “vagina” during a debate on women’s health? They want to ban her from speaking.

Yes, I said, that’s why I love to read H.L. Mencken. He also appreciated the uniquely American gift of Bible-spouting Boobs in politics, as I do. They exist to make everyone else feel smart and good about themselves. And they are funny. Sort of.

What are you doing about it,? she asked me. I say vagina all the time, she said.

Well, I said, I am not political, I don’t vote or participate in the left or right system. It doesn’t include me or my ideas. But I thought about it.

So I gathered the other men on the farm this morning. Simon and Red. I gave them each a treat.

And then I said, “boys, this is a chance for us to show our stuff. We are all feminists on this farm, right?  I’m teaching you a new word. Vagina.” And I said it aloud a few times. Vagina. Vagina. Vagina. They both cocked their heads at me.

Simon chewed his biscuit thoughtfully and stared at my pocket, drooling a bit on the floor. Red got a little nervous. I think politics makes him nervous. I just want to herd sheep, he seemed to be saying. Is this a bad word?

No, I said, it is one of the most beautiful words in the world. It speaks of life and love together, a powerful thing. It is like a flower, I said, a rose. Think of it that way. You and me, we all deal with vaginas one way or another, or at least you did Simon, you too Red. You had 70 kids. And I have to be candid, I said. When I think of the word vagina, very good thoughts go through my mind. Nothing offensive in any way shape or form, not even for a mid-60’s man with sore knees. I’m not dead yet. Every time I say  “vagina,” I told them, something good happens.

What is an offensive word, asked Red? I’m new here, he said. How about “politicians?” I suggested, though Lisa Brown has my vote. I would be delighted to have a President who said “vagina,” rather than all the junk they say now.

So what’s the fuss about? asked Simon, chewing. Simon loves everything about women. Well, I said, there are a lot of dumb and arrogant men in the world and they still think they can tell women what do to and say it seems. There are no women like that on the farm. Frieda growls at you, Red, if you even look at her treat. And Simon, Lulu or Fanny kick you in the head at least one a day if you even think of their vaginas.

So here’s a new command. “Vagina.” It means to find the nearest female on the farm, kiss them if you can and sing to them: we love you and encourage you and appreciate you. And you can say whatever you damn well please anytime and place you want. Not really up to us.

Can I say “Penis?” asked Simon, sort of mischievously. I blushed. Not too much, I said. Go slow. But let’s  keep having some vagina monologues. Maybe we can shut some legislatures down completely. Do some real good. Simon brayed. Red wagged his tail a bit.

I texted this to my angel. Go dude, she said. Even the ass gets it.