Tuesday, May 11, 2010

The Deuce and the Transgendered

It's later than you think. It's even worse than we all thought. While we all watch as The Glorious Leader and his evil minions deconstruct America, there are other battles being fought on the regional and local level that most of us never hear of. We don't stop to realize that the big, national battles being fought in Congress are but the culmination of hundreds, maybe thousands, of smaller battles being fought in our own back yards. Obama and his communist czars have reached the point where they can challenge the Founders because we have all been too busy working and raising our kids to pay attention to the offensive being waged against us in our high schools, colleges, and work places.

Have you ever heard of the Gender Mutiny Collective? Until today I hadn't. But just because we haven't heard of them doesn't mean they haven't been injecting their own poison into American society. The poison of "I'm special, don't offend me."

"Transgendered Anarchists"? Are you, pardon me, shitting me? Regular anarchists are bad enough, but there are sub-divisions of anarchists, including transgendered anarchists? What? Do they riot at G-8 summits dressed in drag? Sorry, we're talking the transgendered, not your garden variety cross-dressers. What the hell do they want, and how am I preventing them from getting it? I haven't a clue. A brief perusal of the web and all I could really find was that they want "unisex" restrooms, so they can do their business and plot against us evil capitalists without being eyeballed by those who are luckily unconfused about their gender. Well hell, I'm all for that.

True story: I walk into the men's restroom at my employer's business. Standing in front of a mirror plucking his/her eyebrows is a "transgendered" person; long hair, make-up, dress, nylons, looking very feminine, but it's a guy, or at least I assume it's a guy since I'm in the men's restroom. I can't help it, I pause, ever so slightly, to make sure I'm in the right place, and then I continue to the urinal. The transgendered person eyeballs me, seemingly daring me to say something. I don't say anything. I ignore he/she...the person. I do what I came in to do, wash my hands and leave. The next day the restroom directly across the hall from the head honcho's office has a new "unisex" sign on the door and a deadbolt lock on the inside of the door. I guess the transgendered person was tired of trying to pluck those eyebrows, plot the overthrow of all the industrialized nations of the world and eyeball the rest of us at the same time. Multi-tasking can be a real drag...no pun intended.

How do you win? Looking back, I should of been more bold. Once I saw the eyeballing, I should of walked up to the mirror next to him/her and while I checked my general appearance said, "When someone eyeballs me like you're doing, I generally think you either want to screw me or fight me, but under the circumstances I'm confused. What's the protocol here?" Of course I'd of been fired within the hour, but at least I'd of met the challenge.

This is not meant to be a harangue against the transgendered...I mean I don't really care if you're an X trapped in a Y body. I figure that's your business and the sooner you get it cleared up the better for everybody. But forgive me if I don't throw $20 into your "Support the transgendered" bucket, as if you're one of Jerry's Kids. And if someone says you're not entitled to special rights just because you're in the process of fundamentally transforming, I wish you wouldn't organize to get them fired...that will get me to eyeballing you...and I'm telling you now I'm not looking to screw you.

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