That’s where we live now. No one forced us to set up camp there; we actually bought tickets and went voluntarily.
We even let our children be the canaries in that ghastly and demonic coal mine.
I know it’s all the rage to complain about helicopter parents hovering over their children’s every move, but we could have used a little more hovering in Connecticut recently. There, a troubled mustached 15-year-old boy who feels pretty won the state 100- and 200-meter dash titles, as a freshman.
Heck, hovering doesn’t even begin to describe what I would have done if my daughter had earned a place to run in that race. I would have gone all Gandalf: “You shall not pass!” I would have made them arrest me out in the middle of that track.
But doing nothing but mindlessly cheering while your daughter’s dreams are being shattered is pretty close to that, I guess. Any word if this dude hit the showers after the race with these girls against their will?
Oh, CNN’s Chris Cuomo called and told them to get over themselves if they don’t want to see any naked roosters in the hen house. Because men who like their Wonder Woman without hairy armpits are the real threat to women’s equality, we’re told. (Certainly not men who enjoy diminishing women’s physical triumphs, before disrobing in front of them and demanding they smile.)
What in God’s name is wrong with us?
This is actually happening. I actually am writing this column. And I am left with the cold, hard truth that if we won’t fight on something as elemental and obvious as boys-can’t-be-girls, we sadly deserve the cultural annihilation to come.
The same feminists who once sang “I am woman, hear me roar” are now strangely silent as opportunities are taken from our daughters — not to mention their hopes and dreams of being the next Mia Hamm, Serena Williams, or a host of other women who paved the way for the next generation’s moment in the sun.
Who needs the heteronormative patriarchy when you’ve got transgender, SJW madness … and the tyranny that comes along with a culture drunk on its own decadence?
My editor, Todd Erzen, has a middle school daughter who is one of the fastest distance runners in the entire country for her age category. Yet, at a recent event that she won handily, the majority of the boys who performed after her beat her time. Why? It’s called testosterone — boys and girls. And knowing that it is called testosterone — and not “patriarchy” — is called “brains.”
Indeed, Connecticut’s boy “girls’ champion” would’ve finished dead last in his rightful categories.
Yet not even almighty science can save us; it will be cast aside by progressives faster than you can say “Christianity” when it doesn’t provide a free pass to the dystopian fever swamp. Just as one example, an old episode of “Bill Nye the Science Guy” was recently edited in order to conveniently conform scientific fact about gender and sex to our current politically correct delusion.
Speaking of brains, here’s more inconvenient science from Dr. Larry Cahill, professor of neurobiology and behavior at UC Irvine. Neuroscience literature shows that the human brain is a sex-typed organ, says Dr. Cahill, with distinct anatomical differences in neural structures and accompanying physiological differences in function. Now that’s some “born this way” you can take to the bank, Lady Gaga.
This Connecticut fiasco is an affront to reason. For, on one hand, progressives say if we believe marriage is between a man and a woman we’re bigots. But then if men steal gold medals from women, they’re a new-age Rosa Parks or something. You have to be devoid of any and all discernment to assert such moral anarchy simultaneously.
Our girls are being told that they don’t matter as much as the boy who dresses up like a girl and beats them. It’s his word against hers. Just keep your mouth shut, and nobody gets hurt … supposedly.
Old and busted are the movies made about the real-life heroines who refused to accept such terms; the new hotness is enjoying the heavy bedazzled hand of your male transgendered oppressors, and their lackluster “feminist” enablers.
Gone are the days when Meryl Streep, Julia Roberts, or Sissy Spacek would play the “she stood alone” role; enter the era of Bruce Jenner trading in his decathlon gold for “Tales of Social Justice Dumbassery.” Such as what it’s like to trade in the cover of a Wheaties box for an endorsement deal with CoverGirl.
One size – so to speak – fits all, ladies. Hope you enjoy your participation ribbons, because the medal stand is now reserved for those “women” whose necks must be shaved on the regular. (For more from the author of “Lefties: Get Used to Your Daughters Losing to Mustached ‘Girls'” please click HERE)