J K Rowling is in ever deeper trouble for offending the trans community and virtue signalling liberals by daring to suggest that biological women are different from trans men (women). Yet I suspect the real source of the anger among the trans community lies elsewhere, and has, not to my knowledge, been remarked on. It is pure and simple resentment. J K Rowling is a strikingly attractive woman. Her finely drawn Dresden shepherdess features, her feminine aura, her sex appeal, her elegant and revealing dresses, are about as far removed from transitioned womanhood as it is possible to imagine. The trans community are, quite simply, consumed with jealousy. They can never attain her beauty and femininity. They bear as much resemblance to J K Rowling as John Inman dressed up as the Widow Twankey.
I once fantasised about being a woman. It happened as a teenager, when I discovered (admittedly from a book) that whereas men are strictly limited in the number of orgasms they can enjoy, women have no limit. I thought that as a man I was being short-changed. But then I discovered that females pay a heavy price for receiving the male seed. They menstruate, get pregnant and have babies, whom they must spend the next 16 years looking after unless they are rich and can afford a nanny. Moreover, whereas women who take precautions and sleep around are generally regarded as ‘slags’, men who do the same are admired as ‘Romeos’, ‘old devils’, and ‘Jack the Lads’ spreading their ‘wild oats’. One way or another, women draw the short straw.
So, to this day it remains a mystery to me why men would want to try and become biological women. I can understand that men might want to behave in a feminine way. That is why we have effeminate men. I can understand that men might want to cross dress. That is why we have transvestites and pantomime dames. And I can understand why men might prefer to sleep with other men. That is why we have homosexual men. One might combine all three and have a whale of a time, and yet remain a man. Some of my best friends are effeminate transvestite homosexuals. But why undergo the drug and surgery induced misery of physically ‘transitioning’ when the result is a biological sham that convinces nobody?
The transitioned man might fantasise that he has magically become a woman. He might demand to be treated like a woman and threaten those who do not play his game with hate crime proceedings. But however hard he tries, whatever protruding bits he has chopped off or grafted on, he still looks, walks, and talks like a man trying to be a woman. He can barely pass muster even as a butch lesbian. Most glaringly, he cannot have babies – the biological function of women. Whatever people say to his (her) face, however much they play along and pander to him (her), he visibly and biologically remains to the rest of the world a man pretending to be a woman.
It will not be long before J K Rowling’s books are being removed from libraries and thrown on bonfires, along with effigies of Rowling herself. When dear old John Inman came on stage as the pantomime dame, and Dick Emery dressed up as Mandy said, ‘Ooh … you are awful!’, we all laughed. But now, the dames are in deadly earnest.
When will the madness end?