News of the gender confusion afflicting the pap smear community across the pond is as unexpected as the discovery that a plunge from the top of the Empire State Building ends with a splat. A woman requested a female doctor. They gave her a she-male with stubble and shamed her for her intolerance.
Do you feel safer now, ladies? Liberated?
In a way, this is vindication for the LGBTQ sophists. They were right that the initial step-off (the redefining of gender as a personal choice) was not the top of a slippery slope. To the contrary, it was the start of a vertical plummet dooming all passengers to an intimate encounter with city asphalt.
If your nose hairs bristle at the thought that the harried, chain-smoking, double shift-pulling cashier in aisle nine might harsh your Mister Grinch mellow with a perfunctory “Merry Christmas,” I get it.
Not the Grinch part, per se, but definitely the part where every casual encounter becomes a potentially awkward confrontation between society and your nonconformist sins. For me, those confrontations came every October whilst growing up under the strictures of the evangelical Christian subculture. My “Merry Christmas” boogeyman was “Happy Halloween.” (more…)
I’m a writer. Which is to say, I type with all ten fingers and have actually, at least once, purchased Microsoft Word. I’ve got a quick draw and an even quicker “Backspace” trigger, and I can squint at a screen till high noon without blinking, like a literary Clint Eastwood intent on staring himself down. Which, I suppose, never ends well (for my stories OR my eyeballs).
On my good days, I transform pain into pen strokes and mirth into paragraph breaks. If pain and mirth sleep, I transubstantiate my marks into the tears and heaving lungs and bloody knuckles that make us human. I cast a spell of curves and slashes and intersecting lines, gathered in mathematical columns or thrown like the frenzied arcs of a blood-drunk Arabian blade—minus the “Allahu Akbar” catchphrase. (more…)
Then the media kept talking about Sutherland First Baptist Church. I guess a country church sopping wet with the crimson carnage of murdered mothers and children was a wound too raw to not salt.
The usual babblebloggers and blatherbots picked up where the killer left off, throats switched from single-round bursts to semi-automatic to clear out any basic human decency that survived the first assault. America’s loudmouths strafed our ears with a clatter of faux empathy. They raked our skulls with a clamor of calculated rage. Deploying rumors. Lobbing fear. Launching cheap political talking points. Using the corpses of slaughtered Christians as props for the same old Beltway bullcrap. Like it was just another day. Because for the people who control the narrative, it was far too truly just that. (more…)
The spittle that sprayed from the dashboard speaker nearly knocked me off the road and into a guardrail. No, it wasn’t Mark Levin. It wasn’t politics at all. It was something far worse: personal finance advice. Financial guru Dave Ramsey, revved up to a crescendo of grumpy-old-man glory, called down hellfire and brimstone on listeners guilty of the eighth deadly sin—using credit cards. Prior to me tuning in to Ramsey’s radio broadcast, he had apparently been triggered by a caller’s confession of love for earning credit card rewards points.
Before you die, you absolutely must read this story by a former NPR executive who ventured out into the jungle of the unknown to observe the right wing barbarian in its natural habitat and discovered, to his relief, that conservatives are not monsters.
Another reminder that Americans need to stop being led like sheep by their favorite political agitators to hate everyone who thinks differently than they do.
1988 was the year I discovered politics. America was riding the throes of another “most important presidential election in our lifetime,” and the media’s bullying of VP candidate Dan Quayle had reached such a fevered pitch (by 1980s standards) that one of my classmates in the 4th grade picked up a habit of making jokes about him—jokes I didn’t get. I remember being aware that the Republican was George Bush and the Democrat was Michael Dukakis. And I remember that somewhere around that time, I learned a befuddling fact: that half of America wanted to kill babies. (more…)
The school books will recall the Obama presidency as the time when the LGBQT movement broke the hetero-normative majority’s stranglehold on socially acceptable sex. And those books will be wrong. Because the reality is that the sexual revolution already won this war in the 1960s, and these past several decades have been the final minute of a blowout football game, with the quarterback taking a knee to run out the clock.