Male, Female . . . Other?

There's only two checkboxes for a reason.

Just when you think every minority from every disease-infested, poverty-stricken corner of the globe, and facet of the darkest depths of our demented psyches has won his or her particular vision of equality . . . another emerges from the cess of society. Enter: the gender-confused.

Homosexuals (queers, fags, turd-tappers, ass-pirates, anal bandits, fudge-packers, salad-tossers, faeries, creampuffs, poofsters, fruits, fruit cakes, queens, gays, etc.) have finally become somewhat accepted in conventional society, so they must further alienate themselves to prove to their parents that they are something unique and divisible. It's no longer cool to be only interested in the antithesis of procreation, you must now seek unnatural coitus AND chose to look like a member of the opposite sex.

These beings don't sit you down civilly and say, "Hey, listen, my name's Jack, but I chose to be Jill because I want to inspire natural attraction in my homosexual escapades." No. Instead, they scream at the top of their lungs, "I'm different! Notice me and pay homage to my gay splinter group of abnormality!" They now want their own washrooms in universities.

Picture Jack - with tits - walking up to the two doors separating one sex from the other so we can't hear each other piss and shit and fart, and not being able to decide which door to open. Why? They don't feel comfortable in either one. Jack's just sad that she can't use the urinal. What, exactly, would the character on a third door look like? A 3-legged, skirted fellow? Stick man with breasts and penis?

Confused about your sex? Take the Clint test: Grab your crotch. Penis equals man, no penis equals woman. If penis is found, walk into the bathroom with the stick man; if no penis is found, walk into the bathroom with the stick woman in a skirt. Can't handle being gawked at by your peers for being a tangent from all things normal and natural? Stop being a freak.

No one cares that you are different. No one cares if you weren't hugged when you were a child, or if mommy and daddy bought you Barbies instead of dump trucks. You aren't going to get a parade because you are mentally retarded, but what am I saying? If the fags can get one, you can get your bathrooms, Jack and Jill!

If the minorities have taught us anything, it's that if you bitch and whine and cry a little you just might get unnecessarily unbalanced allowances and reparations, whether it's justified or not.

I'm done, and I warned you.

Copyright © Clint Hall, 2007. All rights reserved.

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