Cross-dressed nation
Mark Steyn - Monday,22 August 2005
I was passing through London the other day, which isn’t the easiest town to pass through at the moment. There were bombs on the Tube, and some fellow had fled the scene and scrammed into a hospital, and I was stuck in traffic in Piccadilly Circus, and Tony Blair came on the radio, speaking from Downing Street. Or, more to the point, John Howard, his Aussie sidekick, came on. He’d been asked some particularly lame question about London being blowback for Iraq and answered as follows:
“The first point of reference is that once a country allows its foreign policy to be determined by terrorism, it’s given the game away . . .
“Can I remind you that the murder of 88 Australians in Bali took place before the operation in Iraq? And I remind you that the 11th of September occurred before the operation in Iraq. Can I also remind you that the very first occasion that bin Laden specifically referred to Australia was in the context of Australia’s involvement in liberating the people of East Timor? Are people by implication suggesting we shouldn’t have done that?”
Mr. Howard was just warming up with the tough talk and by the time he was through eviscerating the hack in question and handed over the microphone to his British counterpart all Mr. Blair had to say was:
“And I agree 100 per cent with that.”
And even the press corps laughed.
If you’re interested in the war, which admittedly a lot of Canadians aren’t, this is a depressing time to be from “the senior Dominion.” When Tony Blair stands next to John Howard, he communicates strength, resolution, sense of purpose, etc. When he stands next to Paul Martin, he’s forming an orderly queue for Bono’s autograph. So, not surprisingly, he doesn’t stand next to Mr. Dithers more than he has to. This seems to suit Canadians. The days when we complained about Bush not mentioning us are long past. We’ve ticked the no-publicity box and on the whole it suits us.
Oh, well. If we no longer miss the world, we can still Miss Universe. The present holder of that storied title happens to be Canadian, Natalie Glebova of Toronto. I’m not a big fan of beauty contests--nowadays the contestants all look too similar for my tastes--but Miss Glebova seems a pleasant young lady, rather demure in her crown and gown, brunette tresses tumbling down over her victor’s sash. The sash was the problem. Also the tiara. Toronto City Hall banned her from soiling their precincts with either, on the grounds that “activities which degrade men or women through sexual stereotyping, or exploit the bodies of men, women, boys or girls solely for the purpose of attracting attention, are not permitted on Nathan Phillips Square.”
Really? The Western Standard’s star blogger, Kate McMillan, linked to some highlights from Toronto’s Gay Pride parade, in honour of which the “rainbow” flag was raised on Nathan Phillips Square. As fans will know, there were plenty of penises on parade, as well as several breasts, most of which oddly enough were on the same bodies as the penises. Miss Universe may be disapproved of by city hall but Miss Shemale World appeared in boots, gloves and thong, and that’s it. Oh, except for her own city-approved tiara and sash, though it was hard to make out the precise wording on the latter by the time it had snaked its way up and over and in between her two huge and bared implants.
Miss Universe “degrades” women and “exploits” bodies “solely for the purpose of attracting attention,” but presumably Miss Shemale World’s stick-on bazongas are immensely empowering, so that’s okay, even if they do happen to attract a lot of attention.
Well, each to his own, even if his own were purchased from Dow Corning. But that’s the point: “each to his own” is precisely what’s not on offer. If Canadian “diversity” were one big pride parade, we could cheer for Miss Universe or Miss Shemale World according to taste. But, increasingly, “tolerance” is an Orwellian term for the substitution of traditional forms of “intolerance” by new ones. Fifty years ago, we took a relaxed view of teen smoking. Now teen smoking is a terrible thing the vast resources of the state have to stamp out where’er it may be found, but teen gay sex is cool and to be encouraged by condom dispensers, gay dates to the Catholic prom, gay days in Quebec schools, etc. Grimy English schoolboys of old would sneak behind the bike sheds and light up a pack of fags. Now if one wants to light up a pack of fags one has to stroll into the local bathhouse with a come-hither look. The lifetime risk of getting lung cancer from smoking is about one in ten. By comparison, a condom has a failure rate for sexually transmitted agents of over 30 per cent. That’s not like smoking, that’s not a deferred risk way down the road for a guy with a 20-condom-a-day habit for half-a-century; that’s the risk on the condom you’re wearing now.
There is no “tolerance,” there are only changing fashions in intolerance. Right now, Miss Shemale World has the approval of the state and Miss Universe doesn’t. Major historical figures who built our country are discarded, but a minor 19th-century magistrate has streets named after him and monuments erected to him at Toronto taxpayers’ expense because he “suffered a homophobic scandal.” That’s one way of putting it. In the course of investigating a **** case in which the victim claimed to have scratched the perpetrator in the old trouser department, Alexander Wood decided he needed to examine personally the distinguishing characteristics of extensive numbers of young men. On the basis of this very literal heavy-handedness, he’s been taken up as a “gay pioneer,” even though there’s no evidence he was. Nevertheless, the new memorial to him at the corner of Alexander and Church shows him inspecting the lunchbox of a fetching young lad.
Oh, well. If only Lord Dorchester had been chased out of Canada for dressing as a woman and coming on to William Smith, the main drag in Montreal might still be named after him.
History repeats itself: Alexander Wood’s trouser-dropping farce gets rewritten as gay tragedy, and we all accept it as if it were the most natural thing in the world to retrospectively homosexualize the past. And perhaps it is, given our eagerness to homosexualize the future. I don’t mean that we’re all going to be gay the day after tomorrow--quite the opposite, actually: we’re more likely to all be Muslim. But, until we reach that happy state, we’re redefining ancient institutions not merely to add gays to the list of participants but to recast them through the prism of gayness. For example, the stripping of gender-specific language from Ontario family law--“husband,” “wife,” “father,” “mother”--is, by any reasonable standard, a little more than gay inclusiveness and considerably closer to the wholesale demolition of ancient concepts of gender, family and biology.
More than a few civil marriage commissioners--Saskatchewan’s Orville Nichols is merely the latest--are being forced to leave the public service because they’re unwilling to perform same-sex marriage. Fair enough, you say; that’s the law of the land, and if they don’t like it, tough. But the net effect is to push “traditional morality” out of the precincts of the state and to entrench the new gay commissars as a privileged class at the heart of society. Nor will it stop with civil officials. Religious bodies--those famous “exemptions” from the national imposition of same-sex marriage--are already being pressurized to get with the program.
I was at a big showbiz gathering the other day and got into a chat with a famous gay who suddenly embarked on a magnificent rant about how all these dreary political activists were completely ruining homosexuality. I wound up agreeing with him. “If Cole Porter came back today, he’d be straight,” I said. Who are the real “transgressives” here? Surely not Miss Shemale World, with her concrete cleavage sponsored by the Greater Toronto Chamber of Commerce. Meanwhile, you can’t read the relevant portions of Romans on a Canadian radio show, because the sensitivities of three million evangelicals count for less than those of a handful of gay activists.
Sad to say, but Miss Shemale World is a better emblem of our nation than we think. Much of the western world has chosen to prioritize what one might regard as the secondary impulses of society--personal gratification, government health care, paid vacations, etc.--at the expense of the primary ones--national defence, family, faith. I would doubt whether secondary-impulse societies such as Canada can survive beyond a generation or two, if that--because, in the end, the primal impulses are the ones that count. Men are from Mars, women are from Venus, and we in the Shemale Nation are Martians who think we can cross-dress as Venusians and everything will be alright.
Mark Steyn - Monday,22 August 2005
I was passing through London the other day, which isn’t the easiest town to pass through at the moment. There were bombs on the Tube, and some fellow had fled the scene and scrammed into a hospital, and I was stuck in traffic in Piccadilly Circus, and Tony Blair came on the radio, speaking from Downing Street. Or, more to the point, John Howard, his Aussie sidekick, came on. He’d been asked some particularly lame question about London being blowback for Iraq and answered as follows:
“The first point of reference is that once a country allows its foreign policy to be determined by terrorism, it’s given the game away . . .
“Can I remind you that the murder of 88 Australians in Bali took place before the operation in Iraq? And I remind you that the 11th of September occurred before the operation in Iraq. Can I also remind you that the very first occasion that bin Laden specifically referred to Australia was in the context of Australia’s involvement in liberating the people of East Timor? Are people by implication suggesting we shouldn’t have done that?”
Mr. Howard was just warming up with the tough talk and by the time he was through eviscerating the hack in question and handed over the microphone to his British counterpart all Mr. Blair had to say was:
“And I agree 100 per cent with that.”
And even the press corps laughed.
If you’re interested in the war, which admittedly a lot of Canadians aren’t, this is a depressing time to be from “the senior Dominion.” When Tony Blair stands next to John Howard, he communicates strength, resolution, sense of purpose, etc. When he stands next to Paul Martin, he’s forming an orderly queue for Bono’s autograph. So, not surprisingly, he doesn’t stand next to Mr. Dithers more than he has to. This seems to suit Canadians. The days when we complained about Bush not mentioning us are long past. We’ve ticked the no-publicity box and on the whole it suits us.
Oh, well. If we no longer miss the world, we can still Miss Universe. The present holder of that storied title happens to be Canadian, Natalie Glebova of Toronto. I’m not a big fan of beauty contests--nowadays the contestants all look too similar for my tastes--but Miss Glebova seems a pleasant young lady, rather demure in her crown and gown, brunette tresses tumbling down over her victor’s sash. The sash was the problem. Also the tiara. Toronto City Hall banned her from soiling their precincts with either, on the grounds that “activities which degrade men or women through sexual stereotyping, or exploit the bodies of men, women, boys or girls solely for the purpose of attracting attention, are not permitted on Nathan Phillips Square.”
Really? The Western Standard’s star blogger, Kate McMillan, linked to some highlights from Toronto’s Gay Pride parade, in honour of which the “rainbow” flag was raised on Nathan Phillips Square. As fans will know, there were plenty of penises on parade, as well as several breasts, most of which oddly enough were on the same bodies as the penises. Miss Universe may be disapproved of by city hall but Miss Shemale World appeared in boots, gloves and thong, and that’s it. Oh, except for her own city-approved tiara and sash, though it was hard to make out the precise wording on the latter by the time it had snaked its way up and over and in between her two huge and bared implants.
Miss Universe “degrades” women and “exploits” bodies “solely for the purpose of attracting attention,” but presumably Miss Shemale World’s stick-on bazongas are immensely empowering, so that’s okay, even if they do happen to attract a lot of attention.
Well, each to his own, even if his own were purchased from Dow Corning. But that’s the point: “each to his own” is precisely what’s not on offer. If Canadian “diversity” were one big pride parade, we could cheer for Miss Universe or Miss Shemale World according to taste. But, increasingly, “tolerance” is an Orwellian term for the substitution of traditional forms of “intolerance” by new ones. Fifty years ago, we took a relaxed view of teen smoking. Now teen smoking is a terrible thing the vast resources of the state have to stamp out where’er it may be found, but teen gay sex is cool and to be encouraged by condom dispensers, gay dates to the Catholic prom, gay days in Quebec schools, etc. Grimy English schoolboys of old would sneak behind the bike sheds and light up a pack of fags. Now if one wants to light up a pack of fags one has to stroll into the local bathhouse with a come-hither look. The lifetime risk of getting lung cancer from smoking is about one in ten. By comparison, a condom has a failure rate for sexually transmitted agents of over 30 per cent. That’s not like smoking, that’s not a deferred risk way down the road for a guy with a 20-condom-a-day habit for half-a-century; that’s the risk on the condom you’re wearing now.
There is no “tolerance,” there are only changing fashions in intolerance. Right now, Miss Shemale World has the approval of the state and Miss Universe doesn’t. Major historical figures who built our country are discarded, but a minor 19th-century magistrate has streets named after him and monuments erected to him at Toronto taxpayers’ expense because he “suffered a homophobic scandal.” That’s one way of putting it. In the course of investigating a **** case in which the victim claimed to have scratched the perpetrator in the old trouser department, Alexander Wood decided he needed to examine personally the distinguishing characteristics of extensive numbers of young men. On the basis of this very literal heavy-handedness, he’s been taken up as a “gay pioneer,” even though there’s no evidence he was. Nevertheless, the new memorial to him at the corner of Alexander and Church shows him inspecting the lunchbox of a fetching young lad.
Oh, well. If only Lord Dorchester had been chased out of Canada for dressing as a woman and coming on to William Smith, the main drag in Montreal might still be named after him.
History repeats itself: Alexander Wood’s trouser-dropping farce gets rewritten as gay tragedy, and we all accept it as if it were the most natural thing in the world to retrospectively homosexualize the past. And perhaps it is, given our eagerness to homosexualize the future. I don’t mean that we’re all going to be gay the day after tomorrow--quite the opposite, actually: we’re more likely to all be Muslim. But, until we reach that happy state, we’re redefining ancient institutions not merely to add gays to the list of participants but to recast them through the prism of gayness. For example, the stripping of gender-specific language from Ontario family law--“husband,” “wife,” “father,” “mother”--is, by any reasonable standard, a little more than gay inclusiveness and considerably closer to the wholesale demolition of ancient concepts of gender, family and biology.
More than a few civil marriage commissioners--Saskatchewan’s Orville Nichols is merely the latest--are being forced to leave the public service because they’re unwilling to perform same-sex marriage. Fair enough, you say; that’s the law of the land, and if they don’t like it, tough. But the net effect is to push “traditional morality” out of the precincts of the state and to entrench the new gay commissars as a privileged class at the heart of society. Nor will it stop with civil officials. Religious bodies--those famous “exemptions” from the national imposition of same-sex marriage--are already being pressurized to get with the program.
I was at a big showbiz gathering the other day and got into a chat with a famous gay who suddenly embarked on a magnificent rant about how all these dreary political activists were completely ruining homosexuality. I wound up agreeing with him. “If Cole Porter came back today, he’d be straight,” I said. Who are the real “transgressives” here? Surely not Miss Shemale World, with her concrete cleavage sponsored by the Greater Toronto Chamber of Commerce. Meanwhile, you can’t read the relevant portions of Romans on a Canadian radio show, because the sensitivities of three million evangelicals count for less than those of a handful of gay activists.
Sad to say, but Miss Shemale World is a better emblem of our nation than we think. Much of the western world has chosen to prioritize what one might regard as the secondary impulses of society--personal gratification, government health care, paid vacations, etc.--at the expense of the primary ones--national defence, family, faith. I would doubt whether secondary-impulse societies such as Canada can survive beyond a generation or two, if that--because, in the end, the primal impulses are the ones that count. Men are from Mars, women are from Venus, and we in the Shemale Nation are Martians who think we can cross-dress as Venusians and everything will be alright.
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