Yeah, that’s what they’re calling it–“the chance of a lifetime!”
Chance of what?
Why, a chance to win the glorious, scarcely-imaginable prize of flying to Catalina Island for a picnic with… Bruce Gender! Or whatever he’s calling himself, these days.
A publicist emailed me yesterday to seek my help in drumming up ballyhoo for this contest. “When you think of courage, determination and inspiration, you can’t hardly help but think of” Bruce Gender, said she. Sorry, lady, but I am not going to call this guy “Caitlyn” or refer to him by female pronouns, just because he’s had himself surgically and pharmacologically mutilated. And when I do think of courage, determination and inspiration, I’d probably have to think obsessively about it for the rest of my life, and that guy’s name still wouldn’t come up.
Every cell in that man’s body is still male, no matter what they do to him cosmetically. He is a lost soul who is to be pitied. And you, madam, aid and abet him in his crimes against himself and against the sovereignty of God. That makes you worse than he is.
All funds raised by the contest, by the way, go to Brucie’s foundation for “equality and transgender rights.”
If you can’t think of at least 1,500 worthier causes than that… well, shame on you.