Posted on 08/13/2014 1:16:41 PM PDT by thetallguy24
Lol. And apparently they can make children.
As an advocate for the normal-people community, I would like to say, “Eeeeeew. Go AWAY!”
Look on the bright side. Ted Cruz can run to be the first female president of the US of A, and if Hillary or Liz object, we can hammer them as bigots.
Forcing me to affirmatively participate in someone else’s delusion will not cure their mental illness.
They are a conventional male-female marriage including the kids but they are celebrating the reversal of the sexual identity of each parent.
In theory that should make everybody happy on both sides of the issue. If that is the case why does the whole thing make me want to puke?
She “her” sperm was deposited into “his” uterus and “he” carried the babies in “his” womb.
Well stated.
“Brevity is the soul of wit.”
I feel sorry for the child.
I am going to look these “people” up in a few years, and see how they are doing. I predict bad things. The suicide rate for such people are very high.
Running this through the IronJack Truth Translator:
"Our objective is to justify our perversion, and to get a lot of attention doing it so that hopefully we can make some money and hit the talk show circuit again. Are you listening, Oprah?"
In a sane society, the kids would be removed to a safe environment, and the parents would be institutionalized.
Used to be that DIY horror stories were relegated to home improvement and renovation attempts gone wrong.
Look what happens when people try it with reality and reason! “FAIL” just doesn’t describe it.
Oblah Dee oblah da life goes on bra.
She said she hated carrying them. I’m sure they’re going to be messed up from that emotional trauma, as they are people with feelings before they’re born. Shoot, forgot they’re going to be screwed up anyway because they’re parents are totally bonkers. Combine the two, is there any hope for their children?
Good observation.
Remember when this was a common American experience?
“Dixie Boy” by Alabama
I was raised in the shadows of an old cotton mill
Back when believin’ was the style
Small town heaven and a big-eyed boy
Made sweet music for a while
My daddy worked hard down at the factory
Nights he went to G.I. school
He didn’t know nothin’ ‘bout the silver spoon
But he lived by the golden rule
Summer nights he was gone me and mama stayed home
Out on the front porch swing
Wishin’ on the stars in the southern sky
And sometimes we used to sing
We were leaning, leaning on
The everlasting arms of love
Livin’ all those simple joys
This Dixie boy is made of
Got my real education from the T.V. station
And good ole boys down at the park
The say “Hey, Willie” and those rock-a-billies
Made their way into my heart
I remember the old folks sittin’ ‘round talkin’
On laidback Sunday afternoons
They said them young folks sure got a hard road
Oh, they’re growin’ up too soon
Now I know they were right, and as I sit here tonight
Out on the front porch swing
The stars are shinin’ in my young boy’s eyes
Just like they did for me
We are leaning, leaning on
The everlasting arms of love
Livin’ all those simple joys
This Dixie boy is made of
We are leaning, leaning on
The everlasting arms of love
Livin’ all those simple joys
This Dixie boy is made of
>>If these perverts get to define a family, a dog’s bark is a eloquent sermon.
I got to thinking about your comment this morning. I have a friend’s son working on the yard for me today, unbeknownst to my dog. The guy knocked on the back patio door to ask a question and the dog barked hard, deep and loud. I doubt she’s barked like that in a year or more. Usually she just does her squeaky bark because we’re playing and she wants me to throw her stick into the pool so she can get it. The point being... her bark is as true and honest as a sermon. Dogs rarely lie, unlike the subjects of this article.
And so it’s true, but I was clumsily trying make a point that can only be made by a metaphor. Maybe the English language is not capable of answering absurdity like this. There it is. If transgender (such a stupid meaningless word) can tell us what makes a family, then anything can mean anything. Words mean nothing and our language is vain. A dog’s bark, an owl’s hoot, or scratching on a chalkboard might as well be our language. Whatever we feel like they’re saying, or want them to say, is what they say.
I believe your original point was well made. My dog just tells the truth, though not particularly eloquently. :)
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