Douglas Wilson #fundie #wingnut #transphobia #sexist dougwils.com

The 1950s, as problematic as some of it was to thinking Christians, is our closest historical reminder of a modern industrialized nation living in basic accordance with the fixed norms that govern human nature—as those norms are set forth both in Scripture and in our bones. Consequently, the 1950s must be disparaged. We must sneer, and further, we must curl the lip at them.

But think for a moment, ye who look down on the 1950s with disdain . . . did their decade, in comparison with the enlightened decade you live in, the one up here, the one in which we dwell at such a lofty height, have legal battles over whether seven-year-old boys should transitioned into what we are pleased to call “a girl?” Did they give boatloads of taxpayer money to organizations that chop human babies up in order to sell the pieces? Did they look at the very image of God, male and female, that He placed upon the human race at the very beginning (Gen. 1:27Open in Logos Bible Software (if available)), and replace it with multitudinous genders of their very own devising, an action somewhat akin to a troubled art fanatic with a can of orange spray paint deciding to “fix” a Rembrandt?

No, back in the 50s, their crime was to broadcast sitcoms with names like Father Knows Best. The kind of thing that today’s sophisticates prefer is perversion and raunch, propped up with a laugh track. Really? Our culture is neck deep in the blood of innocents, and is teetering on the lip of the abyss, to the background noise of numerous evangelical think-leaders who are still nervously clearing their throats, afraid to say anything that might hurt a stray feeling out there, and Carl Trueman wants to warn us against the perils of the 1950s.

Speaking of the sanity of the fifties, allow me to share a poem from the year I was born, 1953, reproduced as it was published in The New Yorker, of all places. It is by Phyllis McGinley, and is entitled “The Old Feminist.”

Snugly upon the equal height,
enthroned at last where she belongs,
She takes no pleasure in her Rights
who so enjoyed her Wrongs!

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