Of course, the cult masters swarm around their internet spaces and hail Trans-giving and Trans Santa as days of “love” and “empowerment” while they reinforce the irrational fears and artificial identities of these poor, oppressed souls. They sponsor dinners for deeply delusional human beings and urge them to “keep up the fight,” get tested for STDs, donate to LGBTQA++ charities and be vigilant while outdoors because everyone hates them and wants to kill them. They print and distribute sample letters to Trans Santa where boys ask for frilly dresses and girls ask for toy jackhammers that their transphobe parents will not gift them. They blasphemed Easter with that insane Day of Visibility (The fact checkers say, “oh but it does not always FALL on Easter.”). They have taken the Thanks out of Thanksgiving, the Christ out of Christmas and the trust and warm-heartedness out of family traditions. Holidays are all about their live human trans lab experimental subjects. They boast about their “cultural achievements.” The raw materials of outrage.

I am an absolute wreck inside. I will never get over that my son went from being a straight teenage heartthrob to full opposite sex pretender at age 30. After 13 years of self-imposed online hazing and activism, he finally undertook the full three-stage mutilation process, told us to bugger off, then pledged his full membership in the worst fraternity in hell.