A Person Is A Person No Matter How Small: An Eight-Week Unborn Baby.

In Dr. Seuss’ Horton Hears  a Who (both the 1954 book and 2008 movie adaptation) and on the 15th of May in the Nool Jungle, Horton the elephant hears a small speck of dust talking to him. Turns out the speck is actually a tiny world and home to a city called Who-ville, which is inhabited by microscopic-sized inhabitants known as Whos.

The Whos ask Horton to protect them from harm. Though he can’t see them, the goodhearted pachyderm is able to hear the tiny people quite well and agrees to protect them, proclaiming throughout the book and the movie that “even though you can’t hear them at all, a person’s a person, no matter how small.”

In doing so, Horton is ridiculed, ostracized and then forced into a cage by the other animals living in the jungle for believing in something they themselves are unable to see or hear. The elephant’s main antagonists are a sour mama kangaroo, a black-hearted vulture-looking eagle, and three monkeys called the Wilkersham Brothers. Together with dozens and dozens of Wilkersham uncles, cousins and in-laws, the three adversaries stir up the rest of the jungle citizens and convince them to boil the tiny speck of dust in a steaming hot kettle of Beezle-Nut oil.

Amazed and frustrated that the jungle’s inhabitants cannot hear the cries of the tiny Whos, Horton shouts out loud for all of  Who-ville to hear: “You’ve got to prove now that you really are there! So call a big meeting. Get everyone out. Make every Who shout! Make every Who scream! If you don’t every Whois going to end up in Beezle-Nut stew.”

“WE ARE HERE! WE ARE HERE! WE ARE HERE!”

AMERICA’S REAL LIFE VERSION OF HORTON HEARS A WHO

This Is The Card-Tract I hand Out To Expectant Mothers At Abortion Mills And On The Streets.

In terrified unison the Whos cry out, “We are here, we are here, we are here!” At first no one but Horton can hear the collective cry of the tiny microscopic-sized inhabitants. But just before the tiny world is thrown into the large kettle of sizzling and boiling hot oil, the baby kangaroo sitting in the sour mama kangaroo’s pouch cries out, “I hear them! I hear them!” One by one the rest of the jungle dwellers hear the collective cry of the Whos. Now convinced of the Whos‘ existence, Horton’s once hostile neighbors collectively and with one voice vow to help protect the tiny world and its microscopic-sized inhabitants.

In America’s real life version of Horton Hears a Who and following the October 22, 1973 decision by the Supreme Court to legalize abortion, a group of people with keen ears who heard the cries of this nation’s first legally aborted tiny human beings started what has come to be known as the Right to Life movement. Although it’s taken the muffled cries of over 50 million legally aborted babies since 1973 to finally be heard, America’s sour kangaroos, black-hearted vulture-eagles and mob-enticing monkeys are losing ground to Horton-types and microscopic truth. Men and women who formerly could not or would not hear now listen (and even see) with bittersweet joy the faint but unmistakable sounds of tiny beings crying out for all to hear: “We are here, we are here, we are here!” And slowly but surely this nation’s growing and mobilizing group of keen ears and sensitive hearts is doing a little out loud shouting of its own, proclaiming for all to hear, “Even though you can’t hear them at all, a person’s a person, no matter how small.”

PRAYING AT BAKERSFIELD’S ABORTION CLINIC

Fearfully and wonderfully made. --Psalm 139

At least every other week, Street Evangelist Tom Alexander carries the 10-foot, 60-pound cross to the city’s abortion mill located at H and 25th Streets and joins other men and women in prayer for the women who are considering or actually have scheduled to have an abortion that day.  One thing’s for certain: both the women and those who accompany them see the large cross, and the message it speaks of! Psalm 139 (the Right to Life Psalm) is all the motivation any third day believer needs to come to the abortion clinic and stand in the gap for the unborn. Because of keen-eared and sensitive-hearted women and men who hear the silent and muffled cries of the unborn, each and every Monday and Tuesday in Bakersfield innocent and highly vulnerable tiny human beings are being rescued from the sour mama kangaroos, black-hearted vultures and mob-enticing human monkeys that perpetuate America’s immoral holocaust. Glory to God!

(Note: this article was also published as an editorial in The Bakersfield Californian in March, 2009.)