What with Bruce "Caitlyn" Jenner deciding that he's "always" been a woman, which should come as a surprise to the men who competed against him in the Olympics, and Rachael Dolezal, (no former) president of the Spokane branch of the NAACP turning out to be a white woman with a spray tan, I think it's time to bring this one back from almost two years ago. It's from before my breakdown, and was intended to be the first in a series that never ended up happening. But the first installment was pretty good, and is even more relevant today, when the lunatic left is proving more and more even day that they are impossible to parody, as any idea you might think today is so absurd that even they can't believe it will tomorrow be their "inalienable human right" that you are an inhuman monster for denying.
So, without further ado..
A Whole New Me
I think it's time to come clean. Or is that come out?
With all the talk lately about gender identity and gender preference, and how we have to accept that our identities as male and female are based less on our genetic factors and more on what we PERCEIVE our genders to be, I have an startling confession to make. Or maybe not so startling.
Bear in mind that I also have body image dismorphic disorder, the idea that, in America, you can grow up to be anything you want to be, and that you're only as old as you feel, and I will admit to you that I've decided I will no longer be a fat old white guy from Ohio, but a svelte young black lesbian Mormon whose Jewish parents brought her here illegally from Mexico at the age of six.
I would humbly request you respect my new identity preferences, but since I will now likely be voting liberal, as mandated by my race, gender and sexual preference, I will instead arrogantly demand you not only respect and tolerate me, but accept and approve of my new lifestyle.
I will keep you informed of the difficulties of being a svelte young black lesbian undocumented worker in this racist nation of AmeriKKKa as I encounter them.
Shaniqua LaToya Ramirez-Rubenstein
P.S. And, NO, walkingdead, you may NOT touch my boobs.
P.P.S. NO MEANS NO!
P.P.P.S. (maybe at New Years, if you ask nicely...)
(Note:This post has been edited ever so slightly from the original because I'm also identifying as George Lucas today.)