At the back of the hill

Warning: If you stay here long enough you will gain weight! Grazing here strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton. And you might like cheese-doodles.
BTW: I'm presently searching for another person who likes cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Tuesday, May 31, 2016


First off, I will admit that a few transgenders creep me out, because there is way too much going on in their lives, and their psychological problems are showing. In addition to being gender-scrambled, some of them are also loop-de-loops of monumental proportion. Whether their issues were caused by the gender thing, magnified by it, or are so tightly woven into it, is not something that I am competent to judge.

But the fact that some of them are not, strictly speaking, sane, is not really relevant. And actually, neither is their sexual identity.

They gotta pee.

Lady, use the bathroom. Fercrapsakes, relieve your bladder.

The question "can I use your bathroom" should always be answered "yes of course", because we would far rather that someone powder their nose behind a closed door than desperately relieve themselves in the corner or behind the cactus in the parking lot. And we want them to wash their hands. There is no faucet, nor a towel, behind the cactus.

Why the inhabitants of the Deep South persist in thinking that a lavatory is a sexual locale baffles the heck out of me. Is there something sick and twisted about the South? Strike that, of course there is.
The Deep South is almighty queer.

If you are really disturbed by the sexual identity of someone else in line to take a leak, you can always wait. Clenching is an option. Or use the other bathroom. As desperate women at the Ballpark apparently do fairly often anyway, despite the fact that most individuals who can aim their urine quite precisely -- their competitions after school when they were still very young proved that -- seem to gaily piss all over the floor. Which might could ruin a fine set of Ferragamos, besides making the floor a slippery slope when wearing pumps.

I am rather embarrassed by the pigsty men make of public restrooms.
The words 'bio-hazardous condition' and 'toxic sludge' come to mind.

No civilized person should have to endure that.

Urinary hesitancy and "pee-shyness"?

Not a problem for that lot!

It's uncouth.

Returning to the sometimes twinned issues of sexual identity and psychological distress, it seems to me that far too many "normal" people are already so screwed up that it's quite immaterial whether or not they mix the two. Which someone who has finally realized what their sexual identity is, is well on his way to disentangling. Or hers.
Some people solve their sexual crises.
Others don't.

I would rather have a conversation in a bar with a charming and witty transgender person than a sexually repressed and confused cretin whose ideas are thoroughly bent because of lingering religious conditioning.
Sometimes it takes years to get over hang-ups and guilt.
In the meantime, they're batshit.

In either case, their willie, or lack thereof, will not enter into it.

If exceptionally it did, I would handle it with my usual aplomb.

By the way, please learn how to lock the bathroom door and holler "occupied". Those are useful skills. There are some things I just don't want to see.

NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.


  • At 2:53 PM, Anonymous e-kvetcher said…

    Too much, too much...

  • At 8:29 PM, Blogger The back of the hill said…

    QUOTE: "The male reproductive system is where male privilege attaches.
    The female reproductive system is where female oppression attaches.

    She's got it bad.

    I am very strongly tempted to mansplain things to her.

    Instead, I have no interest in setting the gender nazi straight.

    In the same way that I have no interest in ever dealing with people (men OR women) who subscribe to her points of view, no matter how iridescent and variegated they may be.


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