(Crackers. Crayons. Cross-dressing.)
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Remember the good old days, when children had childhoods? Well, I hope you took plenty of pictures, ’cause childhood just got cancelled.
Yes, America. Thanks to the gentle guidance of the Federal Gender Identity Police currently running for President, your elementary school children will soon be sharing the same bathroom, regardless of hateful, bigoted, outdated biology concepts like “girls” and “boys.”
Apparently, lots of concerned people in the nation’s capital are under the impression that first- and second-graders all across America can’t empty their bladders at school, due to deep anxieties about “gender identification.” And the little tykes are psychically frustrated because they’re “forced” to use gender-specific restroom facilities.
Keep in mind … these are kids who only recently acquired the skills necessary to successfully break a graham cracker in half.
You might be thinking that elementary school is a little early to be bothering small children with “mature” social topics like sexual orientation, gender reassignments, and why Hillary Clinton sounds like the illegitimate love child of Selma Diamond and Louis Armstrong. But that’s just because you’re a hateful bigot.
Small children are obviously ready to grasp life-altering decisions like gender identification. And then, nap time.
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Federal Nanny: Hi, young man!
Small Child: Hi.
Fed: I’m sorry…you don’t mind if I refer to you as a male, do you?
Child: Huh?
Fed: Or as young?
Child: Huh?
Fed: What’s your name?
Child: Timmy.
Fed: How old are you, Timmy?
Child: Seven.
Fed: And what do you identify as?
Child: Timmy.
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Clearly, Timmy needs therapy.
Later that morning…
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Timmy: Sally, what are you doing in here? This is the little boys’ room!
Sally: Not any more. The President of the United States says I can utilize any public bathroom that validates my personal gender identity choices.
Timmy: Wow-wee, that’s a lotta big words for a second-grader.
Sally: I also identify as a twenty-eight-year-old Wharton graduate.
Timmy: What’s a worten?
Sally: So. This is what the boys’ room looks like. Gross.
Timmy: Actually, guys don’t really talk all that much in here.
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Let’s hope Timmy remembers to wash up! Because soon he’ll be in the cafeteria, throwing away his government-mandated lunch!
And later that evening…
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Mom: Timmy, do you have any homework?
Timmy: I’m not sure.
Mom: What’s that supposed to mean?
Timmy: Well, the teacher said we should embrace gender assignment. Is that like a reading assignment?
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So where does it end? If a guy identifies as a woman, does he deserve discount shooters on Ladies Night? Does he suddenly start acquiring shoes?
If a woman identifies as a man, does she suddenly start watching reruns of Baywatch? Will she suddenly start making “pull my finger” jokes? Or start carrying a ridiculous number of grocery bags from the car to the kitchen to avoid making more than one trip? Will she suddenly think the Three Stooges are hilarious?
If Bill Clinton identifies as a female, would he then hit on himself? If Bruce Jenner started calling himself Gypsy Rose Lee, would he get paid to pose in a swimsuit? Okay, bad example.
Can Gloria Estefan identify as a rich fat white man and join that exclusive country club? Can I identify as a Native American and open a casino and sell cigarettes? Can Dennis Rodman identify as a bride? Okay, bad example.
Sometime in the near future, at an office park downtown…
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Desk Jockey: Hi. Welcome to the Small Business Administration. How can I help you, sir?
Bob: Ma’am.
DJ: Sorry.
Bob: Anybody ever tell you you’re cute?
DJ: Stop that.
Bob: I’d like to apply for your Startup Business Loan for Female Entrepreneurs program.
DJ: But you’re not a woman.
Bob: Yes, I am.
DJ: Obviously, you’re a guy. I’m a guy, too. I know a guy when I see one. Plus, you’re wearing a work shirt with the name “Bob” stenciled on the pocket.
Bob: I’m identifying as a woman. Have been, since about eight-thirty.
DJ: Oh. Okay. Sign here.
Bob: I’m also black.
DJ: Okay, sign here, too.
Bob: And Chinese.
DJ: You’re gonna need some help carrying all this cash out to your car.
Bob: And Jewish.
DJ: I got nothing.
Bob: I meant Muslim.
DJ: Ah. Sign here.
Bob: So, what’re you doing later, big boy?
DJ: Please stop that.
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