Transmogrification

                Why is it that so many people are suddenly unhappy with the way God made them, particularly those who don’t believe God made them?

                It seems a growing number of women would rather be men, and a growing number of men are “identifying” as women. Jack wants to be Jill… and vice-versa.

                But that’s not all. Some brazen souls are really pushing the envelope and claiming to be of another race or even age. It’s difficult to imagine how someone can claim to be a different gender or race than the ones they were born as. Excuse me, the ones to which “they had been assigned” at birth. A phrase which makes it seem as if the “assigning” of “sex” and “race”-- and other characteristics-- were as casual and arbitrary as the doling out of athletic jerseys before a youth baseball game.  

   Coach: “Smith, here’s a men’s small, hope that works for ya’. Peterson, I’ve got a blue one here with your name on it…not literally, of course. Hah!”

   Doctor/nurse: “For the Smith kid, let’s go with white. Let’s call Peterson a boy. Let’s say White will be a black girl, and Johnson a boy, but, sorry son, a small one. Hah! Anderson, all I’ve got left is Jew, hope that works for ya’.”

   And it’s logically impossible for anyone to discount the age (date of birth) listed on a birth certificate.

   Then there are the true progressive pathfinders and pacesetters who claim to be another species. “Otherkin” are those afflicted with species dysphoria, and who apparently believe they possess the ability to transmogrify into any species of flora or fauna with which they purport to identify.

   Apparently, a very small number of us are even hell-bent on becoming cyborgs-- part man, part machine. Just in time for the onslaught of artificial intelligence! And so it goes. Where it stops, nobody knows.

  If a person doesn’t think transspecies-ism or the desire to be anything but what you are is a mental illness, they have a mental illness. Period. It is amazing to me that those who complain the most about being labeled— pigeon-holed, put in a box!-- as any specific gender, race, or sexual orientation, and who loudly proclaim the “fluidity” of these designations, are the very same ones who see everything only in terms of identity politics.

  Utopian dreams almost always lead to a dystopian reality. I can remove the tailpipe from my Mustang and place a bra on its grille, but it’s still a Ford, and an automobile, no matter how fervently I may wish otherwise. And it’s now louder, yet no less bug-ridden.