I wish I had a time machine. I would teleport a small delegation of Ben Franklin, Tom Jefferson, and Button Gwinnett from their sweltering labors at Independence Hall — then known as the Pennsylvania state house — to a Drag Queen Story Hour hosted by Lil Miss Hot Mess (“The People’s Drag Queen”) reading from her best-selling book, The Hips on the Drag Queen Go Swish, Swish, Swish, to a roomful of six-year-old offspring birthed by America’s current Progressive ruling elite. Here, I would explain, is what it has come to.
Have today’s elites in our country, marinated in social justice and frantically signaling their goodness-and-virtue, gone perhaps a tad too far in their quest to liberate the populace from boundaries previously established for human behavior? It’s one thing, you know, to throw off the onerous yoke of a British King and his agents, with their vexing taxes, despotic harassments, abuses and usurpations. It’s perhaps another thing “empowering” children to bethink themselves monomaniacs of sexual confusion, years before they’re mentally equipped to divine the conundrums of sex. What, after all, is a “hot mess?”
Well, Google’s top search answer, from the Oxford Languages website, defines “hot mess” thusly: a person or thing that is spectacularly unsuccessful or disordered, especially one that is a source of peculiar fascination. Okay, I see: this metaphor signifies what the ruling elites would like our nation to become! And, more generally, western civ — that agglomeration of fusty creeds, shopworn traditions, oppressive laws, dubious virtues, and racist arts. Mission accomplished, then!
On July 4, 2022, America is a hot mess, but exactly! Are we not now spectacularly unsuccessful and disordered — in body, mind, polity, culture, mores, convictions, and aspirations? What is functioning in America these days? Absolutely nuthin’, ugh, say it again, to quote a song lyric of my bygone youth, when our project in Vietnam had gone off the rails. Of course, that was then and this is now. Back then, say 1970, we were the exuberant avatar of Modernity and the rest of the world was still a little groggy from World War Two. In that America, a man could easily support a family, we never gave a thought to our oil supply, and the doctor would see you now.
This birthday of the republic we are on track to going medieval, or something that at least rhymes with it. I’m regretful as anyone to leave so much baggage behind, but frankly it’s been a long time since all the Fun, Fun, Fun was over and Daddy took the T-bird away. Daddy himself is gone, along with all representations of him. Donald Trump tried to play the role in a movie called The Years before Covid-19 but the critics savaged him. Anyone who dares to try to be Daddy in America now will be Me-tooed and J-Sixed to a fare-thee-well, we’ve been warned. In your New World Order of Bill Gates and the Schwabenklaus’s Great Re-set, we are all expected to be a hot mess (so the exterminations can proceed without resistance).
I, for one, refuse to comply with all that insolent wickedness and urge you to join with me in making something decent, honorable, and workable in the vast salvage yard that America will be when we expel the degenerate maniacs who broke it to pieces. You do not have to be a hot mess. You can, for instance, be a man. Or, another instance, be a woman. These binaries of human reproduction can produce new humans. A man, a woman, and children will comprise a family, a good start in rebuilding the organism called a society.
The chief duty of men and women in this future will be doing everything possible to ensure that their children do not become hot messes. Their duties beyond that entail the search for purpose, meaning, and happiness, and building institutions to support those ends. We can start with the language we use amongst ourselves to make sense of who we are and where we are. Our language must have a rigorous correlation with reality, which makes it possible to determine what things are true and what are not true. The time will soon be at hand when it is possible to tell who is speaking the truth and who is not. A battle may ensue over this and those on the side of the truth will prevail. Consider these propositions as you flip your burgers and hoist your malty brews today. Think of the men who gathered at Independence Hall two hundred and forty-six years ago and the trepidation they felt facing the unknown as they signed their names, pledged their fortunes, and committed their sacred honor to a great endeavor.
If Jefferson, et. al. were to come back from rolling in their graves, transgender teens would be the least of their concerns. They would likely be appalled at the bastardization of their ideals and the destruction of their contribution to the governance of humankind.
True that.