Thoughts from the ammo line

Ammo Grrrll is thinking about BANANAS! She writes:

In the 1971 Woody Allen comedy Bananas Woody plays a nebbish (Fielding Mellish) who becomes a revolutionary in a fictional Central American banana republic called San Marcos. The revolution succeeds. Woohoo! The old order is overthrown and the Castro-like character in fatigues, whom Fielding supports, assumes power.

At which point it becomes apparent that the incoming dictator is, in fact, “bananas.” The new dictator announces that everyone will be required to wear his or her underwear on the outside, the better to check whether the citizens are changing underwear every half hour as ordered, and that the official language will be Swedish. Fielding asks a comrade, “What’s the Spanish word for straightjacket?” The comrade comments “Power has driven him mad.”

And so, in a spectacular example of Life imitating Art, we see the Great Revolutionary Obama, lowerer of oceans, healer of the planet, telling the ones who have been waiting for themselves (itself a neat trick), that his legacy is going to be mandating that pretend females will have access to all real females’ bathrooms, showers and locker rooms. No matter how young and vulnerable the girls, pretend females with various dangly bits will be allowed next to them.

Can Swedish be far behind? (Someone will have to continue speaking it after Stockholm turns into a cold Mecca.)

And Obama’s acolytes eat it up with a spoon. Is there ONE who says, “Hey, wait a minute…?” Where are the feminists who assure us that every American male is just a rapist in waiting? Heck, in a skirt, he wouldn’t even have to unzip. Where is Eve Ensler whose tedious play cannot now be performed on account of it discriminates against “women without vaginas”? None dare call this lunacy. To object is to be smeared as supporting the same people who half a century ago would not allow black people to potty in the same bathrooms as white people.

How tired black people must get of having every “struggle” shoehorned into a prototype of the civil rights struggle! The most appalling example, of course, was a popular book in the ’60s actually titled, “Student as N-Word” (only the verboten word was spelled out.) Yes, being on campus in the 60s was nearly identical to the situation black people faced in every particular. The binge drinking, the hookups, the panty raids, the skipping of class…oh, the humanity!

And just by the way, I’m pretty sure that the perfectly-reasonable accommodation offered to the teeny tiny, teeny tiny percentage of people who are transgendered – unisex, “family”-style, restrooms open to everybody – would have been considered a great step forward for black people in the south. So even the wretched analogy falls flat.

Since these single restrooms in schools and public accommodations today could be used by anyone, they wouldn’t even mark a person as transgendered any more than opting to use one now does. I used one just last week at the airport when the ladies’ room was being cleaned.

So, why this slap in the face to all common sense and decency? Why is Obama using this molehill upon which to make a stand, complete with draconian threats of boycotts and lawsuits?

Because he can.

He loves to rub our faces in it. His Koolaid-guzzling base, his supine press, his personal bullies and thugs in the DOJ and a raft of out-of-control regulatory agencies mean he can do any damn thing he pleases. And laugh all the way to his next tee-time or multi-million dollar taxpayer-funded vacation.

But there’s an even scarier reason, straight out of Orwell’s 1984. If you can get sane people to proclaim aloud that a person with a penis and a dress is, in fact, a woman, then you can get them to say anything. 2 + 2 = 5. Or, more accurately, 1 + 1 = 60 at last count. There are not two discrete genders, but some 60 according to our Gender Studies masters.

Way back in ’70s San Francisco, I threw a crazy man in lipstick, a beard, and Elizabethan robes out of the ladies room in a bar on Castro Street. He was quite indignant and screamed, “You’re just jealous because I am more of a woman than you are!” He was mistaken. Also weaker, though the element of surprise played a key role. Today I would have been arrested. Fundamental transformation. You gotta love it. And you gotta love Big Brother. Even if he is wearing an evening gown.

God Bless and prosper North Carolina. Let every Red State in America join them in saying, “No. Not with our daughters you don’t. Men can pretend to be women all day long if it floats their boat. But they are not coming into our women’s restrooms.” Show this petty tyrant what an actual Red Line is. North Carolina: if you win, I may take up smoking again in gratitude.


Books to read from Power Line