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Friday, February 17, 2023

A Sexual Free For All At The White House–When Gender Appointments Get Into A Cat Fight

Joe Biden wanted to be known as the sex change president.  He and his advisors had whole-heartedly embraced transgenderism, the gender spectrum, and the concept of free sexual choice.  They has tirelessly promoted radical gender education in the public schools and quickly formulated a K-6 curriculum focusing on the new sexuality.  Kindergarteners would be taught basic principles of transformative sex – cross-dressing fairy tale role plays would illustrate how easy it was to change one’s sexual identity – and in every successive grade education would become more specific.  By the sixth grade students would know how to apply for gender transformation, where to go, and what it would entail.

The new curriculum met with significant opposition from parents who, although committed progressives were a bit skittish of having their boys twirl in hoop skirts, so the adoption of the new course of study took longer than administrators had expected.  Nevertheless it was approved in the Spring of one year and put into place in the Fall.  The teachers union in consort with school officials rushed their charges through a crash course in gender transformation and they were ready for class by September.

The Administration did not stop there.  The President felt it imperative to make his staff look like the new America, and he began the recruitment process to reflect the gender spectrum and everyone from swishy gay boys to Bernal Heights tough girls, to transgender men and women, from Aliander to Xanith, from the deepest ebony to the lightest coffee-and-cream.  Whites were not included. “They’ve had their day”, said the President.  The only thing white about the White House was the house itself.

About The White House – The White House

So the White House became the nation’s citadel of gender diversity, a collection of proud individuals who would show the force of sexual determination, the rightness of gender choice, and the final demise of antiquated notions of heterosexuality.

As in all animal societies, diversity breed suspicion, outsiders dunned, and skirmishes to determine who rules the roost as common in human society as in a hen house; so it was not surprising that few people were happy in the West Wing.  Everyone began scrapping for access to the President, wheedling and cajoling their way past the Chief of Staff – the only straight person on call and the only exception to the ‘queer only’ rule  because of his gender neutrality – and  trying every trick of the trade to move up the power echelon. The President had naively thought that there would be solidarity among all non-binary people.  They would be united in their fight against the white, male oppressor and form a phalanx of gender righteousness.

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He was wrong, of course  No matter the color, the junk, the sexual profession, the ethnic origin, age, politics, and religion, human beings will always grapple and claw their way up from where they started.   Pike Spanner, a former hook-and-ladder commander, a big brute of a man who had saved lives on the job, but was an off-duty a lonely, frustrated woman in a man’s clothing.  Despite is ur-maleness on the job, he was a pussycat at home who cried over his fate.  With great determination, will, and purpose, he began his transition, and within a year he had become Pilar Spanner, a beautiful although somewhat imposingly tall and unfortunately muscled woman.  He assumed that as the White House Advisor for Gender Affairs, he would indeed rule this particular roost, and every neutrois, transvestite, and tri-gender appointees would fall under his jurisdiction.  The Chief of Staff, following his boss’ directives never specified chain of command  or never drew up an organization chart.  In the new gendered society, there would be no lines of authority, for all would be pulling oars on the same boat. 

The mistake showed up at the very first briefing session.  According to the inclusivity ethos, pre-assigned places were not assigned.  Staff members would simply seat themselves around the table, expressing unity, camaraderie, and collective duty.  At a round table there is no head, but Pilar Spanner felt it important to demonstrate her primus inter pares authority.  There is, in fact, a de facto head of any round table, a position if not numbered or identified, is quickly established by a show of initiative.  Pilar took a seat facing the large portrait of Thomas Jefferson, and was the first to speak.  She did so impressively.  Her strong, stertorous voice resonated in the high-ceilinged, formal room especially chosen by the President for this inaugural event.  She thanked the President, the Chief of Staff, and the diverse assembly before her. 

Brooklyn Peters, Biden’s choice for his lesbian appointment, had always been an outspoken gay woman.  She was a tough cookie, first at the ramparts, first on the steps of City Hall, first in the Castro, and loud supporter of lesbian rights on the City Council.  There was no getting by Brooklyn Peters.  Passes were only given with interest, pay back expected, and whipping post discipline expected.  It was obvious that she wouldn’t sit still for some Johnny-come-lately trannie who arrogated faux authority to himself.  After Pike (Pilar) had finished his remarks, she stood up, and ginning up every ounce of acid, irony, and put-down invective, let him/her have it.  She, accustomed to leadership, obeisance, and allegiance, was the natural leader of the pack.  She was the Alpha person, and would brook no challenges.

A butch lesbian rejects a non-binary identity.

The roundtable erupted with cheers and jeers from all sides.  Each one of the energized, privileged, and uppity men and women (sic) in the room let others know their claim to authority.  Only when the Chief of Staff walked in the room and signaled for order (he had respectfully remained in the cloak room, given the President’s order for spontaneous inclusivity) did the squabbling stop. “Time for tea” he said as he rang for the Presidential butler, quieting the group who settled back into their chairs as the butler served the tea, crumpets, and scones. 

Now, these gender-diverse members of the White House staff had nominal professional responsibilities.  One was in charge of the new gender curriculum, another a liaison to the gay members of Black Lives Matter, a third to gender diversity among California migrant farm workers, etc.  They all had work to do, but their primary agenda was to promote the cause of their particular gender which, like all non-binary genders, had suffered heterosexual oppression, disdain, and outright hostility.  Cesar Chavez wetback aside, Luisa Sanchez, ombudsman to Mexican immigrant labor, had more important maverique gender rights to fight for.

Although the President had been extremely generous in funding the various gender claques within the White House, monies were not limitless; and the genders had to scratch and scramble for funds out of a common pot.  Not only were they concerned with power, status, and access to the President, they had to fight for money. 

As a result, nothing got done.  The howling and mewling of cat fights could be heard up and down the corridors of both the East and West Wings.  Meetings were little more than food fights and were discontinued until further notice by the Chief of Staff.  He – a  white, male heterosexual it must be remembered – had had enough.  “Shut up you bitches”, he shouted at the last of the meetings and was pelted and abused as the walked the gantlet out of the room. 

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Resignation in hand, he barged into the Oval Office, and said, “I quit” leaving the President nonplussed and at a loss for words.  The banging on the doors of the Presidential Suite went on for days, as each member of the gender coalition, outraged and insulted, demanded an audience; but since there was no longer a Chief of Staff, the doors never opened and the President came and went through a back door.

“So much for diversity”, the President said sadly to his wife, Jill, as they climbed into bed that night.

“Yes, dear, but you tried”, and with that the whole sorry, misguided, misplaced affair became  a thing of the past.

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