Roger Evans, Planned Parenthood's senior director for litigation and law, told me over the phone that his main objection is to "the notion that the government has a role in deciding what are fair reasons and unfair reasons for a woman to have an abortion." First it's race and sex -- but what next? On a more practical level, though, the bill "makes it exceedingly difficult for physicians or counselors to talk with women who have concerns or ambivalence about what to do," he explains. "If [the patient] mentions the prohibited subject, it puts doctors in the position of saying, 'I can't talk to you about what you're thinking'" -- not to mention the position of refusing to perform an abortion on that patient for fear of being thrown in prison.

At its core, the measure is "a proscription on open communication between doctor and patient." The flip side of that, however, is that it potentially puts pressure on doctors to cross-examine their patients so as to be sure a woman's decision to abort isn't motivated by sex or race. (And how could one ever be sure?) It also seems very likely that the bill would make pro-choice activists wary of doing outreach services in minority communities -- for fear of it being construed as "soliciting" abortions based on race -- and make abortion providers cautious about serving women of color.

It's important to look at this measure within the context of a recent push to reframe the abortion debate as a battle over racial discrimination. Last week, I wrote about how the Endangered Species Project, which is backed in part by Georgia Right to Life, alleges a "black genocide" at the hands of Planned Parenthood and uses African-American babies as anti-abortion propaganda. Both the bill and the ad campaign are built on the same false premise: That the higher abortion rate in the African-American community is the result of a racist conspiracy by medical providers and pro-choice activists (as opposed to, say, the end result of social manifestations of racism -- like poor healthcare and sex education -- which Planned Parenthood actually works to address). The only evidence they have offered up of such a conspiracy has been thoroughly debunked. 

There is no concerted effort by abortion providers to find pregnant black women to pressure into having an abortion. In fact, there is no concerted effort by providers to find pregnant women of any race to pressure into having an abortion. (Must I once again mention that the vast majority of Planned Parenthood's reproductive services are preventive?) The presumption of a need for this measure in the first place is based on anti-abortion mythology. If it becomes law, though, it sounds like a different kind of racial discrimination -- one that deprives minorities of equal access to reproductive services -- just might become a reality.

The school board tried simply refusing to let McMillen attend the dance with a female date -- oh, and telling her, just as another Mississippi school told Ceara Sturgis at picture time last year, that she couldn't wear a tux -- but as with the Sturgis case, the ACLU got involved. And I think we all know how those people can be about demanding that institutions abide by the law and respect people's civil rights. So, rather than welcome lesbian students to their own prom, the board did the only logical thing: Called the whole thing off and suggested that a private company, which would be free to legally discriminate against gay teenagers, host an alternative dance. And they say conservatives can't think outside the box!

I snark, but this decision -- in addition to being patently cruel on its face -- has already had more serious repercussions for McMillen than just missing a dance. She told the Clarion-Ledger that when she first heard prom was canceled, her response was, "Oh, my God. That's really messed up because the message they are sending is that if they have to let gay people go to prom that they are not going to have one. A bunch of kids at school are really going to hate me for this, so in a way it's really retaliation." And unfortunately, she called it. Back at school today for the first time since it hit the news, she's been greeted with dirty looks and one fellow student sniping, "Thanks for ruining my senior year."

That's what makes this even worse than a dozen other outrageous stories about LGBT kids being banned from school dances: The members of the school board aren't just expressing their own prejudice, they're fomenting anger and resentment among her peers, shifting the focus from their thwarted attempt at illegal discrimination over to the one stubborn kid who's ruining it for everyone. Never mind that it's their own petulant, hateful decision that sabotaged the planned prom; they surely know they can count on a certain number of kids to blame McMillen for standing up for herself, and make her miserable for it. They know damn well they've created a recipe for harassment, potentially even for threats to the girl's safety. (And how much you want to bet they're doing it in the name of Jesus?)

The student who claims McMillen has ruined her whole senior year highlights just how large the idea of prom looms in the minds of many teenagers. A few years down the line, they might think themselves silly for putting so much emphasis on one dance, but then, look at how many stories about students being barred from proms -- because of their sexuality, their race, their choice of clothing -- make national news every spring; it's a big deal to adults, too apparently. Something about seeing the culture wars in microcosm, set against a backdrop of heightened adolescent emotion, is fascinating -- yet at the same time, easy to forget five minutes after you read it, because come on, it's just a school dance. But this time, it's not only about one or two kids being left out -- bad enough, every time it happens -- but about a school board defending its right to discriminate so fiercely it will deny a rite of passage to all the graduating students, and blame it on the one who stood up for her own civil rights and dignity. It's about an institution doing an end run around the law to preserve its own bigotry, just as the Archdiocese of Washington has done. And the scary thing is, it really could become a trend.

Why is a woman who'd be justified in limiting her aspirations to kicking ass in mah-jongg instead one of Hollywood's most sought-after performers? Is it that, as Tracy Clark-Flory pointed out a few weeks back, "She's sugary sweet and filled with subversiveness"? Well, sure, that's a part of it. There's something about the incongruity of a nice old lady being so tough, so dirty-mouthed, that makes for reliable comedy. One need only hear her refer to Sarah Palin as a "crazy bitch" to be smitten.

But there's more to it than that. Betty White is not a typical punch line, doddering off like Grandpa Simpson. We get plenty of that in our pop culture already. Look at the old people! Aren't they funny? They're so slow and out of it! Hardy har har!

But guess what, kids? Inside every creaky geezer there's a person who was once quite likely just as lively and oversexed and troublemaking as you are now. The elderly aren't an alien species. They're the future versions of ourselves. So while there's comic fodder to be had in the dehumanization that only accelerates as one spends more time on earth, easy gags involving jive-talking grannies will only get one so far. No, to truly capture hearts and imaginations within a culture that caters largely to the whims of Nintendo-playing 13-year-old boys, one has to be able to do more than take a tackle in a candy bar ad. White knows how to make a joke, but she herself isn't one. She's too sharp, too knowing, too disarmingly clever. Watch her recent SAG awards speech, as she stands there in her blue gown and insists, "You still can't get rid of me," and see -- this is a lady who knows how to work the room.

Getting old isn't for sissies, and Betty White is no sissy. That's why we love her, not just for the charming, hilarious individual she is, but for the hope she offers every current and future senior citizen that there's more to aging than loneliness, indignity and stories nobody wants to hear. She's reassurance against our own dark fears of outliving our usefulness, of becoming irrelevant. Few among us will ever be invited to host "Saturday Night Live" when we're pushing 90, but Lord, isn't it nice to imagine we'll still be invited anywhere by then? That we'll be loved and valued because we're so goddamm interesting and awesome? Betty White is not sitting on the porch, reminiscing about who she was. She's living in the world, being who she is. And when we grow up, we want to be just like her.

Vaginal birth after cesarean (VBAC) describes vaginal delivery by a woman who has had a previous cesarean delivery... In 1980, a National Institutes of Health (NIH) Consensus Development Conference Panel questioned the necessity of routine repeat cesarean deliveries and outlined situations in which VBAC could be considered. The option for a woman with a previous cesarean delivery to attempt a trial of labor (TOL) was offered and exercised more often in the 1980s through 1996. Beginning in 1996, however, the number of VBACs has declined, contributing to the overall increase in cesarean delivery ...

Although the number of women ... faced with the question of whether to attempt TOL has markedly increased, there has been a concurrent, dramatic drop in VBAC. Yet cesarean and VBAC rates are identified as quality indicators for maternal health by policymakers, insurance providers, and health care quality monitoring groups. Success of TOL is consistently high (60 to 80 percent), whereas the risk of uterine rupture is low (less than 1 percent)...

In other words, in 1980, after reviewing the scientific literature, an NIH panel recommended offering a trial of labor to women who had had a previous C-section. As a result, VBAC became popular. Many women had successful vaginal deliveries. Only a very small proportion of women had serious complications, almost exactly what was predicted. Yet the VBAC rate peaked in 1997 and has declined precipitously since, as the following graph shows.

Open Salon/AmyTuteurMD

Decline in vaginal births after cesarean

Why did VBACs decline despite the fact that the benefits and risks were exactly as predicted? The answer can be summed up in one word: lawsuits. Although women offered VBAC were counseled about the small risk of uterine rupture (opening of the uterine scar during labor) and the attendant risk that the baby might die in the event of a rupture. Nonetheless, when a baby died after a uterine rupture, many mothers sued, and claimed that they had not "understood" the risks even though those risks were clearly explained. Juries were moved by these emotional appeals, and large judgments were paid out.

What did everyone learn from these lawsuits? Doctors learned that patients maintained that they could not "understand" risks no matter how carefully explained, patients learned that they did not have to take responsibility for their decisions, and lawyers learned that VBAC complications represented a bonanza.

The American College of Obstetricians (ACOG) stepped into the breach and, attempting to make things better, made them far worse. ACOG likes to remind its members that doctors have never lost a lawsuit in which they followed ACOG guidelines. Therefore, ACOG decided to promulgate guidelines that doctors could use in their legal defense. Unfortunately, the ACOG guidelines were so strict (unreasonably strict in the eyes of most obstetricians) that most obstetricians could not meet them. ACOG mandated that VBAC should only be attempted when both an anesthesiologist and obstetrician were present so that anyone who experienced a uterine rupture could be treated immediately. Most medium sized and small hospitals cannot afford to have an anesthesiologist in the hospital around the clock. Most obstetricians cannot afford to sit for hours while a patient labors. Therefore, many hospitals and anesthesiologists stopped offering VBAC.

Simply put, lawyers have sharply restricted the availability of VBAC.

The latest NIH panel reviewed the scientific literature and confirmed their earlier stance. VBAC should be offered to eligible women because the chance of success is high and the risk of complications is low. Furthermore, the conference report urged ACOG to re-evaluate their VBAC guidelines, presumably to eliminate the need for continuous presence of both anesthesiologist and obstetricians. In addition, the panel recommended that policy makers review the medico-legal strictures on VBAC, since liability concerns are driving the restriction of VBACs.

So doctors, patients and NIH are in agreement that VBAC should be offered to many more women. Too bad the lawyers don't agree, since they seem to be in charge of making the decision, and they recommend C-section.

The Associated Press paraphrases the pope's vicar for Rome as saying that the school's officials are "trivializing sex." The newspaper of the Italian Bishops' Conference says the plan treats sex as "mere physical exercise" and that sex educators care more about "the health and hygiene consequences of sex" than they do about the ... fire and brimstone consequences. Alternatively, one might say they are more concerned about the scientifically proven consequences, as opposed to those some merely believe to exist. 

The school's headmaster, Antonio Panaccione, says the criticism is a bunch of rubbish: "The scandal is that we do it in Rome, because this is the city of the pope and therefore one can't really talk about sex. They can talk about pedophilia, can't they?" Oh yeah, he just went there. The good news is the school simply isn't backing down. The six vending machines will soon be installed against the Vatican's wishes -- and, indeed, why follow the lead of the pope, a man who believes the solution to the AIDS epidemic in Africa is abstinence and fidelity?

This might sound insanely reductive, but it's what Rolex actually did in 2009. And it worked! According to a study conducted by MRI Starch Communications, a print advertising research firm, 80 percent of young women were attracted to the ad that featured an equestrian in the Kentucky Three Day, while 86 percent of men gravitated towards the Rolex advertisement flashing the President's Cup.

MRI Starch's study, as reported by Ad Age, selected the top print ads in 2009 in 11 product categories, ranking them according to how many male and female readers responded to the ad. What it reveals about the gender divide in marketing is well-worn territory -- men like ads with hot actresses! Ladies just looove sparkly things! -- but what's interesting is where men and women agree. Stella Artois scored highest for both men and women in the beer and ale category for a simple ad that just featured a tall, frothy class of Stella -- no men on jet-skis, no cleavage. And the top scorer in the food category, for both men and women, was an advertisement for DiGiorno Flatbread Melts, a portrait shot of that upscale hot pocket that highlights the convenience of the dish. It just goes to show: Men and women may respond to different advertising campaigns, but at least after we put down the magazines, we can go out for a frosty Belgian ale and a good microwavable sandwich.