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A Trip To The Trans Zoo

The field trip was the big event for the week. The progressive pre-k was going to the Trans Zoo

The little wokesters were all excited to see the new breed of animals from the strutting ostriches to the flamboyant kangaroo

The kids all piled off the minibus with their name tags and official Trans Zoo coloring book

Squealing with delight at the rogue elephant wearing eye shadow, the lioness wearing a wig, and the penguin in high heels, they all pressed closer to get a better look

The woke teachers were quick to point out how these animals were special, and they were different from just boys and girls

Just like that big gorilla in a dress and a hat accentuated by the double strings of pearls

The kids shrieked loudly as the trained giraffes performed a strange dance wearing rhinestone g-strings

And they cheered and clapped at the pink flamingos that had dyed their feathers purple only seen when they spread their wings

“You see kids, you don’t have to grow up to be just boys or girls,” stated the teacher’s aide.

Proudly observing she could see the little kids’ minds turning hoping her message of gender dysphoria had been properly conveyed

The children were all nodding like they understood until little Johnny raised his hand

“What happened to the petting zoo?” It used to be over there where it’s now a stage and a grandstand”

“What happened to the babies? Last time we were here we got to feed a little llama”

“We fed it milk from a bottle that was made by its mama”

“Well Johnny,” stated the aide, “There are no more babies as these animals can’t make a little one”

“You see Johnny, these animals were operated on, so they can never have a daughter or a son”

“These animals are special. The zoo decided that in order to be different they should never be able to reproduce”

“That’s not fair,” screamed little Johnny. “We should be able to feed the babies and not just look at a panty hose wearing moose”

“Besides without babies this zoo won’t be here very long.”

“These animals are going to get old and no one wants to look at a decrepit pig with lipstick wearing a thong”

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Operation Potato Head: The New Woke Parent Board Game

Back in the day children were delighted to receive the games of Mr Potato Head and Operation

With Mr Potato Head, kids could spend hours with a spud and various facial features creating a hilarious figuration

With Operation a battery powered character was “operated” on with tweezers as the participants tried to remove body parts and not light the patient’s nose

But that was then as some of today’s teenagers are the gender creation of a sad game today’s woke parents chose

Hopping on the gender dysphoria bandwagon, parents feel because little Johnny was found trying to balance in mama’s heels he wants to be a girl

A hilarious TicTok video was produced as little Johnny wobbled about and with a dress supplied mama, tried to whirl

Tomboy Suzie likes baseball and to play with Tonka trucks so let’s do a radical mastectomy and fill her full of never ending shots of testosterone

All because of something that was read on a website while browsing for hair products on the phone

So the game continues as now real body parts are removed and other surgically manufactured parts are substituted in their place

Egged on by frustrated and cruel educators and misguided health clinicians, the little kids were handed a heavy burden in the human race

But the woke parents never pass an opportunity for a photo op to pose with the mirthless human they created

As the poor kids bravely stand next to the smiling parent as their lot in life had already been dictated

Would this child choose this lifestyle if the parents had waited until this child turned eighteen?

A lifetime of ostracism, looks of ridicule, and the continual pain of hormone shots all because a parent decided they had a right to alter a DNA gene

So the new world had turned kids playing a game into parents playing a game with kids

And then be furious with the few states that this barbaric game with children the law forbids

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The Fat Kid Always Played Right Field

Back in the day before the internet became the driving force of today’s health repercussions

The slow fat kid always played right field with the coach hoping the ball didn’t bounce off his head causing concussions

But obesity wasn’t the problem it is today. The steady diet of screen time, soft drinks and pizza rolls has taken its toll

It’s easy to eat when the monotoned educator drones on about an uninteresting subject and the student lost all interest immediately after the teacher took role

Recently the American Academy of Pediatrics released new guidelines for treating childhood obesity advising updated treatments

Included in these listings were new rounds of medications and surgery causing raised eyebrows and parental disagreements

Big Pharma once again is popping the cork on celebratory champagne as many of the drugs mentioned are ongoing and expensive

Insurance may or may not pay the drug costs so throw covered bariatric surgery in the mix and have a medical professional sell the idea should you be apprehensive

There’s nothing like taking a self concious, sensitive kid and putting them through major surgery for a gastric sleeve or a lap band

It’s a quick susceptible solution to a problem when in a fair number of cases the issue could be solved by shutting the door on the over active social media gland

Seattle Public Schools this past week filed a lawsuit against Big Tech for creating a health crisis by creating mental addiction

This is the same type of public system that insisted on face time teaching, covid testing, shots and mask mandates for two years sounding much like a hypocritical contradiction

Public schools have lost a generation of kids. Poorly educated, angry, and not mentally equipped to handle society

Teaching that an individual’s choices will determine their future should become a priority

The fat kid probably didn’t like playing right field during the sixth inning in a lost cause of a game

But he learned at an early age that life is not always fair and participation trophies are meaningless and lame

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What’s Up with all these Peanut Allergies

The young boy eyed the lunch room lady with both anticipation and suspicion

The smell emanating from the cafeteria had given the lad an eerie premonition

Pushing the tray down the rail in wide-eyed fearfulness he waited for that dreaded sound

And there it was, the splash in the soup bowl of slimy tomato, looking like a dissected science experiment that drowned

Add to the sloshing of the soup bowl, the splat of the leaky peanut butter and jelly sandwich gluing itself to the melmac plate

This presentation passed for lunch once a month without any regard to the kid’s immediate fate

Flash forward fifty years and today’s crop of classmates would be watching their peers being wheeled out on stretchers in severe anaphylactic shock

It seems today that children need to to be cautious about what they ingest, or they’ll quickly be on their way to the doc

Currently food allergies are on the rise partially to the “clean environment” paranoia. Many foods besides peanuts are on the no eat list

Kids aren’t on the playground anymore sharing dirt, germs, and microbes causing the gut health to suffer and peanut butter sandwiches cease to exist

Helicopter parents standing at the ready with their sani-wipes, antibacterial soaps and sanitizing clothes detergents have weakened the immune systems

In an effort to keep their kids safe from illness the children themselves have become the victims

Who’da ever thought a jar of peanut butter could unleash a deadly effect on kids when the previous problem was always creamy or chunky

That and the fact the classroom full of screaming kids always smelled like the breath of a monkey

The microbes in the gut play an important part in overall health so let the kids play in the dirt

Besides this explains why rats, cockroaches and politicians seem to thrive in their own filth and always emerge unhurt

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When It’s Black On Black, Matter Lacks

IMG_3162 (2)Another day another shooting another young life ends in death

Onlookers peek from windows and doorways as a young child draws her last breath

Fifty years ago Elvis Presley sang about an angry young man who lays down in the street and dies

And as a crowd gathers round his mama cries

Fifty years later the cries of anguish are still heard

The murders are numerous, so many atrocities the crimes become blurred

Today the perfectly coiffed news reporter stands at the scene trying to emphasize society’s decay

But it’s just the daily shooting and the public has become blase

This wasn’t a white cop involved in the fatality

So the standard interview with the neighborhood leaders is just a formality

The protests, rioting and looting will have to wait for another time

Because this was a gang related random act and somehow that’s not as much of a crime

It’s a black thing, you people on the outside just don’t understand

So to combat this senseless violence the call is for the police to disband

We may not understand but we’re sickened by the pools of blood on the sidewalk

And the forensics teams drawing tiny victim’s outlines in chalk

Oh, the mayor will form a committee to study this area’s depravation

And will issue a stern warning to gang members in a wordy proclamation

Just as a another little casket is lowered into the ground under cloudy skies

As a silent group of mourners stand ashen faced while another mother cries

4

The Wed Perse


“Kevin are you glad that you’ve gotten to leave the classroom and come spend time with me?
And if we can break your pronunciation problem with the r’s it will be time well spent. Don’t you agree?”

“So you just sit there and we’ll work on your speech. What color is my purse?”
“Ma’am, your perse is wed.” Knowing my r just went from bad to worse

“No Kevin, the purse is red, rrrr red. Can you repeat that?”
“Yes ma’am, rrrr wed.” More words the kids can poke fun at

Wats!

“Okay Kevin, we’ll try again. How many apples are on the stand?”
“Ma’am it looks like thwee.” Wanting to bury my head in the sand

Wats! Wats!

“Kevin it’s three, thrrrree. Can you repeat it?”
“Yes ma’am, thwee.” As frustration reached the point of throwing a fit

“No Kevin, it’s thrrrree. Repeat it one more time.”
“Thwee.” Just knowing I’m sounding like I’m committing a crime

Cwap!

“Kevin let’s take a minute and watch the yard man cutting grass through the window screen. What color is the grass?”
“Ma’am, he’s cutting gween gwass.”

Cwap! Cwap!

“Okay Kevin, I see our twenty minutes are up and your class is outside for recess. Do you know when our next session is before you go out to play?”
“Yes ma’am it’s thwee o’clock on Fwiday.”

Fuck!

“Oh Kevin, it’s thrrrree o’clock on Frrrriday. I guess I’ve got another ten minutes to spare.
So you’ll stay here and repeat after me, and stop squirming in that chair.”

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