>> I just can't see this cross sex thing. I mean when brothers start
blabbing about women having balls because of some imaginary anatomical
whim that they have made up to be politically correct I start to wretch.
And now this business of 'I used to be a man in another lifetime'. Come
on. Are you guys for real? Am I just a reactionary macho ignoramous?
I'm proud to be a MAN! I was always a MAN! I don't want to be gay or bi
or trans or have some murky imagined past where I was just a sweet
little girl. I don't see it guys.
and in another post,
>> I'd rather take my absolutely hetero ass to Faerie Camp and enjoy
some creativity than be bashed by feminazi celibates.
Everybody's androgenous. You've got nipples, a woman's version of your
penis is her clitoris. If you managed to find some way to measure
femininity vs. machismo, made that you y axis, then plotted the amounts
in all the women and all the men along the x, you'd get overlapping bell
shaped curves. There are things a few women can do better than most of
the men, and men who can do contrarywise. What's a man? Arnold
Schwartzenegger? Richard Simmons? What's a woman? Marilyn Monroe? Amelia
Earhart? Who's a god? Mars? Orpheus? Who's a goddess? Venus? Diana?
Thing ain't all one way or the other.
Am I a male? Of course I am. I'm six feet tall, almost 200 pounds, with
the muscles that come from being a construction worker, with a voice
that can go down to D below the bass clef, and when talking hangs around
on the bottom of it. When I get pissed, the testosterone definitely
shows. The genes left alone on the Y chromosome produced a lot of
prominent things on me. There is absolutely no way I could ever get up
in full drag and pass, so I don't even try. A blind man would read me
just hearing the way I walk and breathe. People still call me "Sir"
whenever I am in a skirt, and they still would even if I were in
Princess Diana's wedding dress.
Do I have all those other soldierly virtues associated with being a
male? The available evidence indicates that I've got enough to get
along. I've survived for fifty years finding out which of them are the
ones I really want to use. I got thru the Navy. I've survived as a
tramp. I can lift anything anyone else can on the construction site, and
keep on doing it for as long. I watched all those other people going
crazy in the jail, and noticed that I wasn't. You don't have to be like
Arnold Schwartzenegger playing Clint Eastwood to do all that - and I
wasn't and I did.
Does that mean I can't do things that are done more often by females. Of
course it doesn't. A man ain't supposed to wear a skirt in America, but
one could in Scotland, Ireland, Greece, Burma, Fiji... In ancient Rome,
no gentleman would wear trousers - only barbarians wore those - and
their army conquered the world in skirts about three inches above the
knee. Now people who defied the gender paradigm with their long hair in
the '60's are trying to revive it again with their earring wearing sons.
And same with lots of other things. In my high school days, no girl
would even think of playing trombone or tuba, and a dude playing flute
got razzed - now that's all disappeared. You say you're a nurse? Men
weren't that when I was a kid. Who's to say what's male or female?
Do I lose my maleness if I take on womanly things? Of course I don't. My
balls remain attached throughout the time I'm with them, and are still
there when I put them aside. I can still rush to my maleness if an
emergency demands it, and recall all my powers after leaving them. I can
play the flute and dance in a dress, then get in a shanti-sena movie
while digging a shitter, then do some cooking in a kitchen. It's a
better ride when you can sit on either side, and I can't see turning my
pecker into a seat belt. Am I a better male after having taken them on?
I think so, for I have more knowledge, which gives me more power - which
makes both men and women better. I can never totally stop being a male,
but I don't really have to stop, either.
Lucipher, I've been a male long enough to know it - but I observe your
behavior and wonder if you have, too. The more anybody parades their
pride about having anything, the more I know they don't have it - and
the more I know they know it, too. You act like you're afraid to be the
least bit female. You sure want to run up against a wall to get away
from the other one.
'Jue la chin-GA, vato! I wonder if you need radical therapy - like doing
something from Swan Lake in a pink tutu in Main Circle. You'd have some
bedraggled road dog shake your hand at the end and tell you that was
GREAT, and you'd be in a new zone. Yes, go to Faerie Camp, get away from
those broads that you think you have to be so opposite from! Find out
how to really take matters into your own hands. Be creative, and
ENJOY...
- Butterfly Bill
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