Replies

One day while mulling over the issue of homosexuality and the cultural aversion to it that is common in many (all?) cultures it suddenly dawned on me that everything around me (excluding the stars, mountains, planets and the sort of stuff common even to ants), I mean even the most mundane objects... like my collection of pencils, the yellow paint on them, the mess in my daughter’s room, the old subway ticket lost in the pocket of an even older jacket, the stitching of that jacket, these three dots I will now write “...” EVERYTHING is connected to life, human life... which means (down the chain) man/woman procreation. Just look around you and suddenly you will see a festival of life... and then little red-faced human creatures coming to this world and being breast fed and then weened and taught. Life, la VITA, family. A union of man and woman. The answer to my question suddenly became obvious. It may play out as an aversion, but underneath it all there is TRUTH, Goodness and beauty... and it is overwhelming.

Even homosexuals themselves and all the gay and fruity nonsense many are into. Man / Woman life.

Family is not just some sort of value that one can freely choose it’s the underpinning even of that old USB cable that I keep forgetting to pack away because my old printer has been replaced by a WIFI printer. Even those invisible WIFI signals. The ink in the cartrdiges. They speak of fruitfulness (not fruitiness)

I can’t understand this egalitarian obsession of considering asphalt equal to rich, espresso brown top soil. On one nothing grows and the other is nutrition.

I can’t understand (for the life of me, but also in the name of the LIFE behind the Ritter chocolate wrapper inside the waste paper basket next to my desk) how one’s sex is now considered a choice.

When I was born, the doctor noticed a “thingy” and marked me down as male. He also looked at the Clock and Calendar and he obviously KNEW where the hospital was located... and so he dutifully wrote down the TRUTH for the record: Male, 12 Noon, 1952, Rome Italy.

Well no, I’m really a female born midnight in Belle Epoque Paris? Surely if I can choose my sex, I should be able to choose my place and time of birth!

Is that the right (of mine) which Signora Clinton is defending? Grazie signora Clinton... but it’s not necessary. There are times when culture (of the ages) is far more sane than recent (but already failed) ideologies.

Besides the fact that it’s revealed truth, even the buttons on my shirt say so!