As a fourth generation Californian who lived through the first Jerry Brown administration — or as I like to call it, the tunnel-boat scene from Willy Wonka — back in the ‘70s, I always considered a Jerry Brown governorship to be like the chicken pox. It’s horrible, you have to suffer though it, it leaves scars, but the good news is that you can never get it again. Then a friend reminded me that chicken pox can lie dormant for years, coming back as its more virulent, painful, adult cousin: The shingles.
Well, Governor Shingles is at it again.
For those of you who don’t live in the Bronze State (we lost our gold AAA rating a long time ago), Governor Brown and the State Legislature’s Democrat super-majority have been passing an all-out orgy of Liberal spending bills ranging from the bizarre to the absurd. In July, they took time out from building their $98 Billion dollar bullet train to nowhere long enough to address perhaps the most pressing issue of our times: “Gender neutral bathrooms” for K-12 school children. Bill AB1266, passed without a single Republican vote, and signed into law on August 12th, reads in part:
A pupil shall be permitted to participate in sex-segregated school programs and activities, including athletic teams and competitions, and use facilities consistent with his or her gender identity, irrespective of the gender listed on the pupil’s records.” [Emphasis Added]
For those of you parents who don’t speak legalese, allow me to translate: Horny 9th-grade boys will now be able to share the gym shower with your daughter, but only if they feel like it. Having been a horny 9th grade boy once, something tells me they will. A lot.
But hey, this is California! The Wild West, early adopter of the counterculture, so you’ll get no argument from me. I’m going along for the ride on this one. But before I do, I have to get a few things off my chest. Governor Shingles, if you’re reading, it’s time for me to come clean – right here, right now:
I am a woman.
Sure, when I look down in the shower each morning I see a penis, my doctor gave me a prostate exam at my physical last month, I have a Y chromosome, and you can hang a trench coat off my adam’s apple, but since when is science relevant? This is California! If ignoring basic biology is good enough for a confused seven year-old shouldn’t it be good enough for me? I am woman, hear me roar! Naturally, I expect all the perks of my newfound sex – or gender – or identity – or whatever the Democrats are calling it this week: The ability to ogle women in the locker room, the occasional mani-pedi, and a kick-ass spot as second baseperson on the girl’s softball team. And lets not forget the discounted small business loans, the free child care, free birth control, and my WIC benefits. While we’re at it I might as well spill it all:
I am also black.
This will no doubt come as a surprise to my friends and family, as I look like the lovechild of Nicole Kidman and the entire Edgar Winter Group, but it’s undeniably true. It will also come as a shock to my doctor, who told me my DNA test showed absolutely no trace of African American blood whatsoever (but then again I found him on the Obamacare exchange website). God, it feels good to get that off my breast.