Pansexual – November 20, 2020

If you can’t figure it out, um, did you bring any turnips with you?

Subject matter

Now I have your attention. But I have other things on my mind today.  Before leaving though, I might curiously point out just like the gender/sex specificity indicated by the ‘rainbow’ symbol everyone recognizes, pansexuality comes with its own “Doctor Kildare”1 symbol.  It also has a three-bar flag or banner of magenta or some kind of pink for the female side, cyan or some kind of blue for the male side, and yellow for the unside that can’t make up its mind which side to side with when sides are choosing sides. Seems to me that banner manages to insult everyone, pansexuals especially. How trite and stereotypic.

Don’t hate me that you’re here. You’re the one whose prurient interest directed your attentions.

Now about those other things…

When I grow up

Used to think I wanted to be a cowboy when I grow up.  Now I’m thinking I want to be a woman.  Of course, I lack certain credentials.  Re-credentialling, when you stop to think about it, a pretty tough row to hoe.  Physical requirements are fairly specific.  These days though, if one has a mind,2 a transition is not out of the question.  Suspect it involves a lot of work and judging from the current costs of medical non-care3 in the US(of)A you probably want to be reasonably-well convinced what you’re about.  Out-of-pocket costs and reversal difficulty being hefty considerations.

If you’re about joining the big boys in the Varsity Club, you might end up rethinking when Biff, off-season from football is bored, doesn’t like the cut of your jib, and thinking it original equipment jib, commences to give you a thrashing, just because, well, because he’s Biff and you’re not.

Fancy you like designer clothes and the joys of cosmetic shopping, you’ll still need to look out for Biff.  He might decide he likes the cut of your new jib, assuming he didn’t know your old jib, becoming somewhat of a pest.  Knowing your old jib, he might be in your face4 for other reasons.

Biff is nothing, if not equal opportunity.

Fancy I can handle a Biff.  Worry more over taking heat from a Maureen or Wanda not knowing just what to do with someone like me running a counterfeit jib.  Advantage as I see it, is that successful in my jib-swap, in spite of some flack, I’ll actually hold membership in two minorities which should stand to open a lot of doors get a lot of concessions.

Then again, if surgeries and medications don’t do something about dimming my memory, I’ll waste a lot of time admiring myself If you know what I mean.

On reflection, while what I got sometimes isn’t easy, guess I’ll stick with it.  Known evils and all.

Musing

It’s not necessary you dishonor men to honor women.  Honoring men doesn’t dishonor women.  Next time you’re out and about, take a look. Women and men, as difficult as it seems to accept it as fact, are of the same species.  They can breed and their offspring are not infertile. Usually. You can’t follow that, substitute “respect” for the word “honor.” If the part giving you difficulty is “infertile,” I can’t help you.

Any man who pounds on a woman deserves a punishment I’m still trying to conceptualize.  What is needed, I think is an alien life form, capable of inflicting horrendous physical and mental pain to be meted-out in these cases.  Mostly physical pain.  Men that deranged and cowardly don’t understand mental pain, you must speak to them in terms they understand; then you must explain ‘why.’  We’re considering lower life forms here.

On the other hand, anyone who believes there are not women out there who can physically and mentally destroy the male of the species are sleeping in some kind of cocoon. I fear when those cocoons burst open, the butterflies emerging are in great peril, not understanding much about real life; risking dangers to themselves and those around them. By the way, male-abusing women generally abuse their spouses, not some just-off-the-street stranger. Fewer in numbers, spouse-beating women also have been known to pick up the slack.

1 Television show early to mid-1960’s

2Some of my associates would wonder if that wouldn’t be more aptly put, “One has lost his mind.”

3Non-care. The last several years, I’ve noticed doctors are not-so-much “hands-on.”  Considered for a while I had leprosy since the doctor would only let his stethoscope violate the space between he and me.  If my shoulder pained, there was no need to grab hold of that sucker to see if it maybe it didn’t have some loose parts or he could cause and hear some snap, crackle, and pop out of the ordinary.  Now, his office and all his non-medical medical professionals keep berating me because I refuse to sign on-board for telemedicine.  Hell, they ain’t been practicing medicine, near as I can tell the last five years in person, why should I allow as they could do any better sitting behind a PC screen and keyboard?

4 Even Biff, while not hesitant challenging stock-equipment, would draw the line short of shutting-down a custom-model.  Verbal abuse, sure, but not physical.  Biff’s not a genuinely bad sort, but his overriding concern would be that other lettermen thought poorly of him for picking on what would still be considered not male.

End Rant

© SP Wilcenski 2020

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