Thoughts from the ammo line

It’s not Ammo Grrrll SKATING ON THIN ICE. She writes:

JUST when you think it’s safe to open your computer and surf the Internet – or, dare I say “skate” the Internet? — you come upon one of the cruelest displays of wokeness run amok that I have ever seen. In late January in Espoo, Finland, in an opening ceremony for the European Figure Championships, the committee arranged for a sturdy 59-year old farmer pretending to be a woman to don a modest little skating outfit with a skirt and lumber out onto the ice, with all the grace of the Hamm’s Bear.

He did a couple of awkward, talentless spins and promptly fell to his knees, unable to get back up again on his own. Eventually, a young lady skater, a third his age and perhaps half his weight, helped him up and handed him a flag. It was unbearable to watch.

Now when Nancy Pelosi was kneeling in support of the anthem disrespecters and got down on one knee – in case we missed the point draped in a ridiculous culturally appropriated African “kinte” cloth – I laughed till I couldn’t get my breath when she discovered she couldn’t get up again. I wish her only option had been to go supine and just roll to the sidelines where some flunky could help her up. Sadly, we cannot all get what we wish.

I had no such impulse in the case of the skater. There is no need to mention the name of the poor humiliated Finnish person, even if I could spell it. It was not precisely his fault, though he had some agency in agreeing to participate in the debacle. I blame the deranged wokesters on the committee who decided it was a good idea to feature him with what was obviously inadequate preparation.

When I watch old concerts of the angel-voiced violin prodigy Alison Krauss, it makes me really really really wish I could play the violin like that. She got her first little violin under the Christmas tree when she was five. I have never played a stringed instrument in my life, not even a ukulele. Just because I would announce that I am going to mutilate myself and turn myself into an elderly, weak, puny fake man is no reason to put me in the first violin chair of the Phoenix orchestra to attempt to play “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” badly, in some sort of insane genuflection to Diversity.

Mastering the violin is hard. Skating is hard. Skaters of both sexes who master speed or figure skating typically start to train at a very young age. So I would say to the 59-year-old farmer: You want to figure skate? Have at it. You own a farm and it’s nightmarishly cold in Finland. Freeze a little pond and skate your heart out. Wear whatever frilly little outfits you can find in your size. But why mutilate yourself in order to skate? Ever hear of Hans Brinker?

Well, just because a regular old white male farmer could never in a million years get a chance to skate badly in front of an audience for a European competition. Neither, for that matter, would the committee be interested in a run-of-the-mill burly, elderly woman. BUT, as a burly elderly woman WHO USED TO BE A MAN, well, come right in and humiliate yourself while we all are warm and toasty in the ice arena wrapped in a thick cloak of self-righteousness and virtue signaling.

In the drama fest that is ANY conversation with these Alphabet Loons, we “normies” are always accused of either causing them to be killed by marauding bands of heterosexual terrorists (they cannot name one…) or causing them to kill themselves.

Purportedly, a female to male transition costs about $40,000 for the double mastectomy, another $100,000 for the bottom half re-plumbing and then a lifetime of hormones and other pharmaceutical support. “Affirm and pay for this 12-year-old to have her breasts removed and her lady bits destroyed and turned into a pretend penis,” say the medical greedballs and “psychologists” to her terrified parents, “or she will definitely commit suicide!”

Never mind that MORE trans people commit suicide AFTER their disfigurements than before. Facts are not allowed when every disagreement counts as a Death Threat. I can promise you right now that if I had turned in a skating performance like the Finnish fella, I may not immediately have committed suicide, but I would never have appeared in public again.

I understand that there is a split in the Alphabet People Group between those who think that you MUST have mutilating, sterilizing surgery in order to qualify for the category of transgender, with all its rights, privileges and place of honor at the Entitlement Trough. At least a person can kind of respect the “all-in” nature of this losing war against Nature.

And another group who believe that just SAYING, just CLAIMING that you are a woman or a Golden Retriever or a Barbie Doll is enough. I guess the champion pretend girl swimmer, Lia Thomas, fits into the latter category, swinging his intact distinguished member around in the locker room as he scoops up all the medals meant for biological women.

But speaking of gonads, when are people going to find some to fight back against the relentless cultural depravity and erasure of biological women? All the women on that swim team would have had to do to get rid of Lia (he, him, cowardly cheater) was quit AS A UNIT. Take your swimsuit and go home. Every last one of you.

“Oh, Susan, what about their scholarships?” Forget them. College is mostly a waste of time anyway. But, if you MUST go, work for a couple of years to pay for college, or take out loans you have no intention of ever repaying like everybody else. If you were good enough to get a scholarship in the first place, MAYBE some other college women’s swim team without men on it has a place for you. If not, do something else. Do not comply. Do not participate in your own negation, ladies. But one woman cannot do it. It must be all of you.

In the fight against Nazism in World War II, men were sometimes dropped off their landing craft too soon, in water too deep to walk in, with 80 pounds of gear in a backpack and machine gun fire all around them and they just did what they had to do. Have you ever read about the carnage of even one battle of the Civil War? You know, that war to free the slaves and keep the Union together where over 600,000 Americans – most, but not all, white ones — perished? For perspective, the women swimmers should read a biography of Rosa Parks or Martin Luther King’s “Letter From a Birmingham Jail.” And then ask if leaving a swim team where the fix is in for the guy in the one-piece to win compares in any way to that level of sacrifice and courage.