I'm Done With Warnings

Holy fuck. The trans community. Or at least, portions of it.

Try to warn some people that their house is on fire, and not only will they throw stones at you for being an annoyance, for pointing out the obvious, or for misunderstanding your motives for warning them, but they will then launch into personal attacks, character assassinations and even issue threats.

Like, what are you going to do to me from the USA, dahling? Throw a ballistic handbag at me? Call me names? Send me some sternly worded hate mail?

Some people don't like to hear the truth, and can't handle it when they do hear it. Why should I have to sugar-coat the warning "y'all are going to end up in concentration camps if you don't pack up and move somewhere else that's safe"?

Lines In The Sand

Dear Americans, I've lost count of the number of times Trump has committed "impeachable offenses" in the past 8 months (not to mention during the fiasco that was his first tenure) - and the number of times outraged opponents and social activists have said "imagine if Obama/Clinton/Biden did this?!"

As if that somehow constitues some form of "red line" that others dared not cross previously. However, that analogy has become useless - because it's increasingly evident to me that the so-called line is simply one drawn in the sand, as on a beach... and every time Trump and his backing party takes up the challenge and steps across it, all the opposition seems to do is simply redraw another equally facetious line in the sand.