A bunch of people of the LGBTOSTFU persuasion had a little “gay” dance party outside Ivanka Trump’s house the other night. (That’s not the slant of the story, but stay with me here.) I guess this event was supposed to be “provocative” or “daring” or “Resist!” or whatever, you know, what with Trump planning to stick homos into concentration camps and all that [eyeroll].
The only problem is that the Trumps weren’t at home. In terms of relevance, therefore, the gesture makes about as much sense as this one:
…but maybe I’m just reading this all wrong.
Is that a picture of Ashley Judd at a feminist protest rally?
Cow: You call those udders? Your calves are gonna starve!
They DO look pretty skinny.
Oh gawd, I knew this would happen…
You’re just looking at this from the wrong side of the ditch.
“Got milk? No?!”
For a group that just wants to be treated like everyone else BLTG’s sure go through a lot of trouble to set themselves apart.
They don’t want to be treated like everyone else – they want to persecute everyone who doesn’t agree with them.
You have two groups. Those who actually do want to get along and be treated like everyone else, and then you have the cry bullies who use their “victim” status to get attention, benefits, ect.
I grow weary of the gaystapo.
Well Kim, if you were one of the herd (errr…flock?), ya might think different I suppose.
As a man with a militant lesbian social justice warrior for a daughter – those folks bring a lot of their problems and unhappiness down on themselves. Trust me on this too – if there was any way of reaching out to them, any concession that would make them happy… I would have found it. I would have ripped down the gates of Hell with my bare hands to find it. It is my conviction that the vast majority of those people actively seek that which makes them unhappy, and that that dog eared victim card just doesn’t work for me anymore. My family collapsed when my daughter and her creepy girlfriend tried to re-define it along with their sexuality and biology. I can hold my nose and tolerate their sexuality – but their personalities are another matter.
A clear case of Udder Envy.
Female version of the story that ends:
“How did you make that horse laugh?”
“I told him my unit was larger than his.”
“How did you make him cry?”
“I showed him.”
After reading this, I have been mooing at every busty lass I see, on the 0.01% chance it is the lady in the photo or her mammarian philosophical twin.
So far, no luck, but I will keep everyone here abreast of things. (SWIDT?)