The other day while I was cleaning my sock drawer, I found this dusty old blog. Thought I’d take it out and see if it still worked.
Well, first it needed a new battery—ya know, one of those little, round watch batteries that look like spare change? So I go to the store, and they have fifty different kinds all with teensy little letters that I can’t read, even with my glasses. So after squinting at a few, I bought one that seemed right. It’s working now but who knows for how long.
Anyhoo, how ya doin’?
Say, didya see Bruce—I ain’t gonna call him Caitlyn—Jenner’s cover-photo for Vanity Fair?
Was a magazine ever more appropriately titled?
!!Trigger Warning!! The following contains explicit anti-transgender views. A special room with soft couch and soothing, waterfall sounds has been provided for your safety.
See, it’s girls, boys. Sorry, there’s no such thing as “cis,” except in the imagination of radical LGBT activists.
[Moderator’s Note: Please indicate agreement with Jazz Hands, disagreement with Down-twinkles so as not to cause anxiety on the part of the blogger or other audience members.]
Call me a hater if you like (you’d be wrong), but it seems very few people are willing to speak about things like this for fear of being branded a homophobe. While there are many people who have same-sex attraction for many and complicated reasons, this is something else altogether.
It’s a narcissistic effort to invert nature for the purpose of saying, “Pay attention to me! Please!”
I’m sorry for the evident turbulence afflicting MISTER Jenner’s soul, but this is what happens when we toss off as irrelevant the natural law built into our species by God, preferring our own ideas about how things “should be.” And let’s be honest, do you know anyone, yourself included, that you’d trust running the universe?
Made in the image and likeness of God, whether we like it or not, there are some things that we just can’t change no matter how far or how fast we run from them. The great struggle of life is coming to know oneself and how we relate to our Creator.
We, as lumps of clay, cannot say to the potter, “Why have you made me thus?” It is a question springing from fear and distrust. A question that assumes God has no great interest in us, or what we will become; that when it comes right down to it, He doesn’t give a happy rat’s ass about us anyway.
But thank that same God who, despite our calumnies against Him, never rejects us. Even when we go off the deep end.
Seems like a good place to sign off. The b ttery is alm st dea
