Today is International Men’s Day. Which is ironic because it’s also my son’s birthday.
Why is this ironic? Because International Men’s Day is a day that, among other things, focuses on the mental health and wellbeing of men. And, because my son believes he’s a woman.
Those of you who are new to this channel are likely a bit out of the loop. Here’s a quick recap.
About a year ago, we discovered that our out-of-state son was out of his mind. He sent my wife a text telling her he was “trans”. By the time we found out about it, he had been taking female hormones for just over a year.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m a big believer that grown-ass men should make their own decisions. Whether or not I agree with his decision is irrelevant. So, he can dress up like some caricature of a woman and that’s his business. I could probably have lived with that. I wouldn’t have liked it, and I would have forever given him a ration of shit about it, but I could probably live with it.
Where he crossed the line is when he expected us to disregard science and common sense, and pretend along with him that he’s not mentally ill. Well, actually, that’s not quite true. We not only had to pretend that he’s a woman, we had to convince him that we actually believed he’s a woman.
Those of you who are not new to this channel knew that was never going to happen.
So, he decided that he didn’t want us in his life. This year, Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, every holiday actually, went by with nary a greeting or a well wish. Both of our birthdays went by unacknowledged.
Oh Look! A squirrel!
Time out:
Why is Mother’s Day spelled “r apostrophe s” instead of “rs apostrophe”? It’s not a specific mother’s day. It’s a day for all mothers. Which would make the correct spelling “rs apostrophe”.
Time in:
Back to My Original Thought
Where was I? Oh yeah.
Our 6-foot-2 son has completely drunk the trans Kool-Aid. There’s no getting him back. Even if he came to his senses today and stopped his nonsense, the damage is already done.
Female hormones don’t belong in a male body. By taking the hormones, he’s increased his risk of cancer, stroke, blood clots, and osteoporosis. He’s also shaved years off his life expectancy. That’s even if he doesn’t have any type of surgery. Which I’m assuming he will because someone will convince him he should.
And, honestly, from my point of view, that’s probably the thing that’s the most unforgiveable. I’m sitting here with heart problems and knees so bad that sometimes I can’t even walk. What I wouldn’t give to have my healthy 30-year-old body back. And he took his healthy 30-year-old body and destroyed it. On purpose.
One Eye Open
I realized the other day that, if he ever came here to visit, I wouldn’t let him spend the night. He’s welcome in our home, but he has to spend his nights in a hotel. Why? Because I have to sleep sometime. And I don’t trust my own son not to kill me.
Now, don’t get me wrong, he’s never been a violent person. But he’s also a mentally ill man who has the delusion that he’s a woman. Like I said, he’s fully on board with this whole trans nonsense. And we’ve all seen how militant those people can be.
The person or people who convinced him he’s a woman has or have already convinced him that his life is better without my wife and I in it. I have no way of knowing that they haven’t also convinced him that his life would be better if we weren’t around at all. You know, for the greater good of the cause.
Those of you not new to this channel also know my wife are believers in the Second Amendment. We keep loaded weapons in the house. I mean, what’s the point of having a gun if it’s locked in one safe and the ammo is locked somewhere else?
It’s just my wife and me in the house and we rarely get visitors. So, having a loaded gun or two in the house is no big deal. We have four.
Besides, even if we locked up the guns, there are still plenty of ways for a motivated person to kill someone else. Thus, the hotel room.
Sure, it may sound paranoid. But we really don’t know our son anymore. We do, however, know that he’s mentally ill. And we know that the female hormone he’s taking cause changes in personality and mood swings. So, why take the chance?
From time to time, I look at his Facebook page. Because, contrary to what he may believe, I still do care. Yesterday, I saw he had posted a new picture of himself. With purple hair. And boobs.
First of all. Yuck.
Secondly, he was wearing a shirt so probably most of it was padding. But still, Yuck. I asked my wife if she wanted to see the picture. She declined. I wish I hadn’t seen it. Because I can never un-see it.
His picture had several comments like, “Cute!”, and “That’s a great color for you!”. He also got 47 “likes”. Don’t these people realize that they’re part of the problem. They should NOT be encouraging this type of behavior. That’s exactly like seeing a picture of an emaciated anorexic and telling her (most anorexic people are women) that she looks great.
Let’s Do the Math
Now, let’s get back to life-expectancy. My daily cosmetic regimen is the same as it is for most men. I get out of the shower, towel dry my hair and…well…that’s it. Figure 10 seconds, max. Add a minute or two for shaving a couple days a week.
Stay with me. I’m making a point.
Our son had bad acne when he was in his teens that left some fairly large facial scars. He used to cover it up with a beard. But he had his facial hair removed. So now he has to spackle on gobs of makeup to cover up the scarring. Remember, I saw his picture. No visible scars. And that’s got to take at least an hour a day. Maybe longer.
Now, let’s say that he puts on his face 5 days a week. It’s probably more than that but let’s say five because it makes the math simple. So that’s about 250 hours a year spent just making his face appear like a cartoonish version of a woman’s face. We’ll ignore any time spent removing the aforementioned spackle in the evenings because, again, it keeps the math simple.
Multiply that out by 30 years (I don’t expect him to live past 60) and we’re talking about 7,500 hours of time wasted on just applying makeup. That’s 312 days. But we need to account for the fact that he sleeps about 8 hours a day. That means that those 312 days are effectively 468 days.
That’s 4.2% of 30 years. Think about that. If you had to allocate how you would spend 4.2% of your remaining life, can you honestly say you’d choose “putting on makeup”? I didn’t think so. No reasonable or rational person would.
And that’s my whole point. No reasonable or rational person would make the decisions he’s making.
Which is why I’m not entirely certain that my son wouldn’t kill me in my sleep.
As I mentioned, today is his birthday. A few minutes ago, I sent him a birthday greeting text. I don’t expect a reply. Hell, I don’t even expect it to be his phone number anymore. Yet even after being snubbed for an entire year, I wished him a happy birthday anyway.
Why? Because I’m the better man. Obviously.
