There is a major controversy in the realm of collegiate sports which has developed into a firestorm of debate on the legitimacy of the national collegiate swimming championship recently won by Lia Thomas.
I know I sound like I don’t, but I have always believed in acceptance and inclusivity. I am sensitive to the issues and needs of others, but these feelings interfere with my competitive spirit which has always been a big part of my life.
I would be sooooo pissed off if it was my daughter who was denied the rightfully-won trophy. The last time I checked, it wasn’t the NCAA Transgender Women’s Swimming Championship.
Just because you identify yourself as a woman, does not make you a woman. The same with men.
There is ONE and ONLY ONE who has the power to create gender. He (or she, covering my bases now) doesn’t use test tubes or invitro, it’s the Ultimate Gender Assignment.
I like my assignment.
I absolutely cannot fathom the idea of some things, despite what my irrational actions have reflected my whole life long.
Hey here’s an idea: what if I identified myself as a seven year-old boy and I wanted to play Pop Warner Midget football?
Here’s what would happen:
After a decade-long legal battle, I will have won the right to play.
I’d be seventy-seven years old, with one-leg, and I would still put up mad numbers in the league.
I don’t remember when science stuck its nose where it doesn’t belong, but it was stated as fact, the advantages that males have over females in strength and speed, you remember.
There are some crazy-good female athletes, but it’s just not fair to imagine the very best female besting the very best males.
That is why in the name of fairness, which is the very heart of athletic competition, I propose a new league for transgender athletes which would be a “fair” solution.
I do not expect to be given any sympathy when I even attempt something athletic, like play golf, for example.
I still talk shit with the boys, reminding them of the absolute low point they would reach if they lost to a big mouth, one-legged Mexican.
As confusing as the whole gender identification landscape is, I wonder what is going through the minds of today’s children?
His brain is squirmin’ like a toad.
Whenever I threaten to catch Karen and beat her within an inch of her life, she giggles and says, “First you gotta catch me.”
It is then I remind her of Clancy, or more accurately Clancy Merriweather McDuff Corleone Diaz. That was his AKC registered name. He was a Brittany Spaniel of impeccable breeding.
When we lived in Norman, Oklahoma there was a telephone line that ran from one big tree in our front yard to another impressive oak tree on the back of our yard. There was this little squirrel that used to run back and forth this line, torturing Clancy. For hours, Clancy would chase the squirrel back and forth the telephone line. He never took his eyes off him the whole time.
For two years he waited.
On the 500th (and last) time the squirrel made Clancy chase him, the little rodent lost his balance and I saw him land right in my doggy’s mouth.
That look on his face said it all.
I want that look on my face.