In the early part of this century, I lived in a small town in central Massachusetts not too far from Worcester. I drove to work every day going through another small town even closer to Worcester. In that small town there was a shopping center. And in that shopping center there was a store called the Glamour Boutique.
I drove past that store for years without hardly giving it any thought. When I did think about it, I just thought it was a place that sold makeup, dresses and accessories for women.
Next to the Glamour Boutique was a place that sold sewing machines. One day, my wife was scoping out a new machine and I tagged along. As I walked from my car to the sewing machine store, I happened to glance in the window of the Glamour Boutique.
I was right that it sold makeup, dresses and accessories. But it didn’t sell those things to women. It sold them to men.
Right smack-dab in the middle of Massachusetts was a store catering to the whims and desires of crossdressers and transvestites. I started wondering about how a store like that could stay in business. I mean, how many transvestites could there be in central Mass?
It’s Not My Thing
Of course, that was back in the days when dudes who were oddly compelled to pretend to be women were at least embarrassed enough about it to do so only in the privacy of their own homes. Or maybe there was some local club where they’d all congregate to primp, prance, parade and sashay. I wouldn’t know. It’s not my thing.
Out of curiosity, I recently checked to see if the Glamour Boutique was still in business. It is not. I guess with transvestitism going mainstream and the miracle of the Internet, mentally ill dudes in central Mass can get their costumes without leaving the privacy of their own homes. Which is sort of ironic because once they’ve bought what they think they need, they spackle on their makeup and then leave the privacy of their own homes.
I hadn’t thought about the Glamour Boutique in nearly 15 years. Why would I? Like I said, it’s not my thing. But then I saw the news from Worcester a couple of weeks ago where the city council had voted to make Worcester a sanctuary for “trans” people.
I’m going to go on the record and state that there is no such thing as a “trans” person. Because adding the term “trans” implies that their transition can ultimately be successful.
There is no world in which a man can magically metamorphosize into a woman. Or a woman into a man. It simply can never happen. But by using the word “trans”, you’re saying that you believe that it’s possible. You might not be meaning to, but that’s what you’re saying. So, stop it.
Not Seeing the Same Thing
I watched a video of part of the meeting, and I don’t seem to have seen what all but two members of the city council saw. They, apparently, saw a marginalized community. What I saw was a bunch of obviously mentally ill people.
There was one woman complaining because she had to dress for the meeting by putting glitter on her obviously fake beard. Then there was the guy who spent his time at the podium yelling. And there was a guy who talked about his irrational fear for his safety when going out in public dressed in drag.
When was the last time you heard of some dude dressed up like a woman getting physically assaulted? Exactly. If it were happening at all, the liberal news media would be all over it. If even one instance occurred, they’d spend the next few weeks blaming it on Trump. So, the absence of any stories is a pretty good indicator that type of thing never happens.
But let’s look at the flip side. I’m sure you’ve seen videos of some cross-dressed dude screaming at someone who “mis-pronouned” him. Or maybe you’ve heard about the recent school attacks committed by gender dysphoric people.
If anything, us normal people should be afraid of gender dysphoric people. But we’re not.
Transphobia
I’m likely to be labeled “transphobic” because of what I’m saying here. Which I’m OK with for two reasons. The first reason is that I don’t give a fuck about what name anyone calls me. Because I’m a well-adjusted adult.
The second reason I’m OK with being labeled “transphobic” is because there are two different definitions of the term “phobic”. It can mean that I have an irrational fear of so-called “trans” people. Which I don’t. Other than palm trees, I don’t have an irrational fear of anything.
But there’s a second definition of “phobic”. We can see its use in the term “hydrophobic”. A hydrophobic material is one that repels water. While I’m not afraid of a man who believes he’s a woman, I do find him to be repulsive. So, using that definition…sure…I’m transphobic. If that’s the label you want to use.
Here’s a hint from your Uncle Mike: If you’re a man and afraid of what will happen to you if you go outside dressed as a woman, there’s a simple solution. Don’t go outside dressed as a woman. And if you have an irrational compulsion to do so, then maybe, just maybe, you should seek professional help.
It simply isn’t rational to continuously draw attention to something and then expect nobody to notice it.
The One-Legged Asshole
I’m reminded of a guy I once knew who had one leg. He walked around three-legged on crutches and liked to talk about playing wheelchair basketball.
Apparently, there’s a physical ranking of wheelchair basketball players to categorize their amount of mobility, or immobility.
Someone who is a true paraplegic will be ranked lower than someone with one leg. That’s because the guy with a working leg has a bit more mobility, and therefore, reach, than someone with no working legs at all. I don’t know if he was any good or not, but he considered himself to be a big deal in local wheelchair basketball circles.
I don’t remember all the details. However, these days, if I were interested, I could just look the details up. But I’m not, so I don’t.
Now, where was I. Oh yeah.
His stories would nearly always start with “before I lost my leg” blah, blah, blah, or “after I lost my leg” yadda, yadda, yadda. It seemed to me like he really wanted to tell someone about how he lost one of his legs.
So, after listening to him for months, I finally asked him what happened to his leg. He looked at me with an attitude, it may have been scorn or disdain, and told me that it was none of my damn business.
What an asshole.
Eyes Wide Shut
The point is, most of us are quite happy and adept at ignoring things that people want ignored. For example, if this guy hadn’t always been bringing attention to his missing leg, everyone would have simply ignored the fact that he was missing it.
You can’t continuously draw attention to something and then expect nobody to notice it. And when someone does notice, only an asshole would blame that on the person doing the noticing.
And that’s what happened in Worcester Massachusetts.
So now Worcester has proclaimed itself a sanctuary for people suffering from gender dysphoria. Or people who are simply looking for attention. It’s hard to tell for sure which one it is.
Ideally, the goal of the city council was to get these people the help they need.
And by help, I’m not talking about forcing the other 99.999% of the people who live in Worcester to reinforce the delusions of a small number of mentally ill people. I’m talking about giving the people pretending to be the opposite gender access to the mental health care that they so obviously, and desperately, need.
All but two of the council members voted for the resolution. The two who voted against it have been receiving threats of physical violence from the “mostly peaceful” members of the gender dysphoric community. Which is ironic since they were the ones complaining about not feeling safe from the rest of us.
