“Does Hollywood’s fetishized push to sexualize a new generation of kids with Instagram-friendly labels such as Trans Centric or Gender Fluid Fickle feel very organic or “child appropriate” to you?” says Joe, a seventeen-year-old debate stud for Richard Pryor High, a new charter school in Peoria, Illinois.
Unfortunately for his alpha dog debate team peers, including his best bud Paul, Joe was just getting his yak pipes warmed up, adding, “The problem with parents enabling pubescent teen mutilation makeovers in their politicized dash to let their children slash their protracted age of innocence in half, is that it never factors in irretraceable buyer’s remorse once little Joey blooms under his Fruit of the Looms and realizes that he can’t get his grind on with a gal on the dance floor if he wanted to, without feeling a missing link to old school rap in the process.
“Plus, whatever happened to kids being asexual from age one through eleven, at least? “Also, for all the scientific worship these days (in place of you know who), where is all the hard evidence of Chaz Bono being a beacon of mental calm since his far-later-in-life transformation into Just One Of The Guys?
“You know—the same Chaz Bono who doesn’t eat wings at the bar, wishing he was at the MGM Grand in Vegas, instead, to hear Cher belt out ‘If I Can Turn Back Time’ to relieve his severe case of blue balls paralysis, already.”
Paul finally cuts off his dear debating bud, goes in for the retaliatory attack, and says, “Is this a debate team trial run, or Joe’s personalized open mike to test out more groan-generating trans material for the Montreal Comedy Festival?
“I get it. Little Boy Blue in the fourth grade at nine years old isn’t expected to declare his major in Gender Studies at Oberlin College, just yet. So why should we expect him to make a life-changing decision such as sexual realignment surgery any sooner than when he turns nineteen? Nineteen is the new fifteen, because that’s when most kids are losing their virginity these days, anyway; especially since swiping for dick picks became the death of small talk on both sides of the glory hole cubby divide.
“I don’t think the government should be allowed to intervene on their parents’ behalf, though, if they start feeding their nine-year-old effeminate son enough testosterone blockers to turn him into Mayor Pete’s dumpier side-up half.
“I bet it was Mayor Pete’s idea to parade his hubby around, triple masked in a Winnie-The-Pooh coat—as if catching the China-made virus from a stiff breeze is a bigger concern for him than barebacking in the shower at the local health club on KY Jelly street without flip flops on, for gay pride swinger week.
“Wait a minute. Now I’m doing trans schtick, too.
“Look, how can I be transphobic if I’d rather suck off Bruce Jenner with no makeup on, and suck up every last demon drop, than go to the Lego Store with my nephews, again, after the coast is clear, with all our masks securely on, feeling like Michael Jackson on holiday in Bahrain before Magic made HIV disappear?
“I’m actually turned on immensely by shemales, myself, knowing they typically possess tighter bods than most girls willing to date me.
“You also know they have no problem swallowing because they have no other use for my love juice. Also, most girls today have blown-up-looking snatches by age sixteen, so I’m not complaining about a tighter hole to not get her pregnant in, either.
“I’d even go the movies again (assuming they ever reopen) to see a trans remake of Weird Science; except this time, they’d create their dream shemale vision come true all over their shattered visions of rock-solid heterosexuality again.
“Still, I’m talking about a madeup movie, Perverted Science, where the doll who comes to life is played by a real life, grown trans woman who made an informed, evolved decision because he/she wanted to come in closer contact with her feminine side, and realized along the way how she made a better-looking chick.
“And if you got it, flaunt it, baby.
“I tried putting a pink wig on, once, and makeup, after my girlfriend got a strap-on for us to play, with one night. And never in a million years did I think I’d look like such an ugly, homely-looking bitch.
“Granted, when I played basketball in junior high, I used to run on my tippy toes, looking like I was running in high heels instead of high tops. But this still doesn’t mean that I was a gentle high-stepper of any kind.
“If LaVar Ball was my substitute coach dad, he’d still bark on the sidelines, yelling, “We’re trying to sell Ballerwear, son, not Jimmy Choos!
“I think Paul and I should start selling trans jokes to Dave Chappelle, because he can afford to not give a shit. We can’t. Who wants to have that debate, next?
“White comics can’t get away this material today, ever. Even Aerosmith is getting grief, these days, for their song ‘Dude Looks Like A Lady’, which is ridiculous, because in the song, Steven Tyler takes more than a peak, proclaiming, with surging, mounting lust, ‘Oh, what a funky lady. And I like it, like it, like it, yeah.’
“So did Richard Pryor, He said it was the best piece of pussy he ever had, so get over it, already. “Hate speech, not. Maybe I won’t give up on wining a debating scholarship if Chris Rock finances a new college serving as a safe space for politically incorrect material, God forbid.”