Transgenderism Is Linguistic Bait-and-Switch

Language is the basis of communication, for without language, there is no communication. However, whenever language is coopted or perverted, miscommunication and chaos are inevitable. These are not mere pitfalls on the evolution of language; they are the destination. When people can’t agree on what something means or find common understanding of terms, communication becomes difficult, if not impossible. This is even more so when simple words are deemed undefinable. If you say “cat” and I picture a squirrel, dog, or pylon, we’re not referring to the same thing. If I keep pressing that we are referring to the same thing, dialogue becomes problematic.

We’re living in an age of subjective science based on feelings, rather than objective observances. If I were to say gravity doesn’t exist because I don’t feel it, one need merely point out objects falling to show gravity does exist as something specific. But if I claim falling is when things go up, one can either accept my truth that falling is when things go up or counter this by dropping an object and possibly be labeled a “graviphobe” for disagreeing. Congratulations, gravity now has two opposite meanings. Add more definitions or non-definitions to “gravity” and multiply that by a big enough magnitude, conversations about gravity require excess steps of clarification that might not even clarify.

People can identify by identifying.

At some point in the recent past, people decided certain basic biological words don’t really mean what anyone thinks they mean or have no meaning at all. Now others just have to accept non-definable terms as reality without question or risk being labeled a “phobe” or worse for objecting to being forced to accept this distortion of language as truth. (Incidentally, “phobe/phobia” used to mean fear of something specific; now people use it when someone else disagrees, while elevating that disagreement to fear.)

These days people can identify as the opposite sex merely by identifying as it. People need not describe what it actually means to FEEL like a man or woman or why they feel that way, but simply to stand on it as such and force others to accept it as reality. What does being a man feel like? What does being a woman feel like? What does feeling feel like? These are not questions explored, but declarations shouted from the Twitter tops that “hey, I’m a woman now because I said so!” Asking what the word “woman” means is often met with “someone who identifies as a woman.” I am a circle; therefore, I am a circle. One can either accept this as truth or counter with the biological understanding of woman and be labeled a “transphobe” for disagreeing with this assessment. Congratulations, “woman” is now an empty, meaningless shell of a term.

One of the effects of emptying these terms of definable qualities or features is that if “man” and “woman” are amorphous terms, then claiming to change from one to the other doesn’t mean anything. Conversely, if the terms have set distinctives, changing is impossible. Either way, it’s a self-defeating premise. The irony is that this supposed change affirms that men and women are different; it just doesn’t know how.

Unrelated but related

Supposedly, gender is unrelated to sex; some people will tell you gender changes, but sex does not. However, those who claim this view either fail to realize or fail to acknowledge the immutable gives way to the mutable. In order to accommodate gender change, biological physiology gets modified, terminology gets unnecessarily wordy, and/or clarity gets murky. Instead of using biology as the de facto understanding of what a man or woman is and helping people come to terms, word usage is manipulated to enhance the confusion. Biological woman is relegated to such terms as “vagina owner*,” “person who can get pregnant and bleed” (excessive wordiness good for a 2,000-word paper), or “gestational parent.” While these words are technically-correct descriptors of women, they sound more clinical than personal and come across as condescending. However, the implication in their usage by people who do so without a hint of irony is that men can fall under the umbrella of womanhood just by looking like a woman, while overlooking the fact that man cannot do these things anyway. Also, for things that aren’t related, descriptors of sexual function are still used to make distinctions.

https://genderinstitute.anu.edu.au/sites/default/files/docs/2021_docs/Gender_inclusive_handbook.pdf

For something that’s unrelated to sex, transgenderism is also couched in the numerous acronymic letters, the first three (at least) dealing with sexuality, not genderality. We’re told there’s a spectrum of genders, but if there aren’t only two genders, the first 3 letters are rendered meaningless or broadened into nonsense. Transgenderism undermines and rejects homosexuality as a concept; otherwise, it requires an inconsistent logic to maintain itself. Additionally, it implies people are really attracted to shallow abstract ideas represented by people, rather than people themselves. If someone is attracted to a specific sex and not simply someone else claiming to be a specific gender, that person becomes the bad guy in a lot of people’s minds. One doesn’t have to look very far online to see people get offended because others aren’t interested in entertaining this distortion of terminology or biology.

Switch-and-bait

If sex and gender use the same word but one has to distort the other into confusion to validate itself, this reveals the reality. In essence, this view that men and women don’t have set distinctives, one can become the other simply by declaring it so, and anyone who disagrees is reduced to a negative label is psychology gaslighting biology, telling it to take a back seat.

Men and women are different biologically, but transgenderism sees people as nothing more than interchangeable parts and empty terminology. Being biologically different doesn’t mean men and women shouldn’t be viewed as equals. Women have fought hard just to be recognized and taken seriously irrespective of their biological designs. If a woman can be easily replaced with a biological man who claims to be a woman, it’s hailed as a breakthrough in the name of progress by many; however, it demonstrates men and women are not truly viewed as equals. Why have someone who could get pregnant and might be away from a job for months when you can get someone without the capacity to become pregnant because they look superficially the same. Why pick for a sport someone who’s not as physically strong/fast as someone whose biological structure gives a physical advantage, if he just claims to be a she. Conversely, if a woman is only respected because people thinks she’s a man, she’s not actually respected. Just look up female authors who used male pseudonyms to have their work recognized.

This substituting one sex for another and calling it legit is nothing more than linguistic bait-and-switch. In any other line of thinking, bait-and-switch is frowned upon; if someone tries to sell you one thing that is really another, they are (or should be) called out on it. This is not the case with transgenderism. People are expected to bend over backwards trying to accommodate something that isn’t definable and even warps language into incoherency and apparent contradictions.

This is where we find ourselves today. Confusion and chaos. And people are just supposed to accept it without question. Those who oppose this line of thinking or point out its flaws are labeled as “phobes” in order to shut down opposition.

Image result for joseph goebbels the lie

*Body part ownership makes them sound detachable and/or transferrable like pieces of property. I don’t own my body parts; they’re part of my whole.

Addendum: transgenderism breaks gender stereotypes by reinforcing gender stereotypes. Rather than saying boys can play with dolls, people have decided dolls are for girls. If a boy plays with a doll, people claim he’s a girl, which reinforces only girls play with dolls.

Goodbye, Grandma

My last living grandparent passed away today.

This wasn’t a surprise. My family knew this was coming; we just didn’t know when. She turned 90 years old back in October (any potential celebration destroyed by COVIDstances) and had a health scare back in November.

Her mental (and inevitably her physical health) had been failing for some time, and her last few years were spent in a nursing facility after being hospitalized by a fall she couldn’t remember. It was so difficult to watch her decline every time my wife and I went to visit her. My last memory of her being lucid was during that hospital visit after her fall (I was not expecting the lucidity); otherwise, we got stuck in conversation loops that I never really knew how to handle.

When I got the news of her passing, I didn’t feel anything specific. Maybe it’s because last year has left so many of us feeling emotionally drained in some ways. Or maybe it’s because I’d already come to terms with her being gone and had expected the news some time ago. When she did have that health scare, I had felt some bit of anxiousness (Is it COVID? Will she make it?), but hearing she was gone didn’t phase me at first. It wasn’t until I was writing out about not feeling anything that I did begin to feel some sort of sadness and cry some tears. Perhaps in writing it out there was some catharsis or realization of the reality that she’s gone.

The last time I saw her was last February, just before COVID sent everyone and everything into a spiral. I had decided to visit her because a dream I’d had that week about her passing away. It woke me up feeling panicky. I don’t remember the details of the dream, other than that specific thing. I don’t know why I had that dream. I kinda waited to see if anything might’ve happened in the real world, but I never heard any news, which was somewhat of a relief. I had thought of mentioning the dream to my family when I mentioned going to visit, but I had only told it to my wife. The dream itself was enough to shake me, but not worrying enough to bring up to my family. Maybe I should’ve. Would they have gone with me because of a dream? Would I have if someone else had that dream? I don’t know. None of us knew the months ahead would become what they did. Even though there was no news and it was just a dream, I still wanted to go see her. Given her state of health, I didn’t know if I might get another chance.

And I was right. I’m thankful I made that trip.

Grandma, you will be missed.

I Make Custom T-shirts

I haven’t done this for years, but I used to design custom t-shirts for myself. I still wear them, and people are sometimes surprised to find out I made them. I’ve had people ask about where I got them or mention I should sell them. So that’s what I’ve started doing.

The conversion has been a bit tricky. The shirts I custom-designed were made on vistaprint.com. It’s a good site for designing for myself; however, they only offered three colors when I was making them: white, light gray, and black. White got kinda dinghy after a bit, and stuff showed up on the black shirts, so I ended up with several gray shirts. I stopped making them after I got tired of filling my closet with light gray shirts.

Anyway, I’ve managed to convert a couple designs into potentially broader base; I also created a completely new design that I’ve never worn. If you get a chance, check out the selection of shirts (and other items) on my store: https://www.redbubble.com/people/EdwardAntonym. There are currently three designs, but I’m planning to add more as I get the chance.

Ode to Mike

(Originally published June 2, 2010)

Has it been so long?
A year has past,
Since the time
We saw you last

But you would not want
For us to be sad,
But rejoice in the Lord
And to always be glad.

Quite a character,
You’re one-of-a-kind.
No one else like you–
Oh, not that I mind.

You were warm and friendly
And always around.
Right where we left you,
You’d likely be found

You were hard at work
There was just no slowing.
You didn’t seem to stop.
What kept you going?

Though some look at you,
Might see half a man
Bad leg, sight, and sound
And lacking in hands.

While we take for granted
All that we’ve been given,
You didn’t complain.
You were too busy livin’.

You’d give God the glory
And all of the praise.
Though hand incomplete,
You’d still have it raised.

So with a fond farewell,
I bid you adieu
Until up in Heaven,
When I’ll walk with you.

Michael “Video Mike” Pyzdrowski
R.I.P.
June 2, 2009

Donald Trump Set to Win Self-Congratulations Award [SATIRE]

Donald Trump showing off his favorite worldly possession.

Hollywood, CA – As another January rolls around, we are once again bombarded by many awards show and ceremonies. Of course, no award season would be complete without the all-important Self-Congratulations Award (The Ego), a staple of each year’s numerous speeches. Insiders have already hinted that this year’s frontrunner is none other than President Donald Trump, known for his roles in Twitterverse, Twitterverse 2: Electric Boogaloo, and Mr Sharknado Goes to Washington.

Runners up included presidential hopeful Elizabeth Warren and representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (AOC), who were troubled by the decision. Elizabeth Warren reminded everyone she and fellow presidential candidate Amy Klobuchar never lost an election, quickly backhanding Amy by pointing out Amy hasn’t accomplished quite as much in terms of winning. Meanwhile, AOC told the press her cooking/dancing videos are extremely popular online, and her New Green Deal alerted everyone to the impending danger of farting cows.

When reached for comment about the decision, SCA committee chairman Tom Needlenose told reporters, “Look, there are many, many celebrities– from politicians to movie stars– who do a lot of self-pats on the back. It’s why there are so many awards shows in the first place. But we couldn’t think of anyone who deserves this honor more.”

Upon hearing the news, Trump responded: “I think the judges were completely fair in their assessment. Nobody’s done more to congratulate themselves than I have. I’d like to thank my ego for this accomplishment; it’s a yuge honor.”

Just A Fetus

Yes, I am just a fetus
That’s why I need
Your love and protection
Not hate and destruction

I’m vulnerable, you see
And I rely on thee
To look after me

I have a heartbeat
And that’s no fable
But you can make decisions
While I am unable

I haven’t been born yet
I’m at a growing stage
I may be so tiny
But I look my age

You may see me
As less than human
And want to decide
That I’m not worth preservin’

I am human like you
Though not fully grown
Yet without your protection
I am all alone

You were once like me
At this point in your life
The difference between us
Is you’re on the outside

For My Father-In-Law (On His Birthday)

I mentioned previously that my father-in-law passed away earlier this year. Today (Dec 7) marks what would’ve been his 70th birthday. In honor of his birthday, I wanted to share the full text of what I wrote for his memorial service.


I’m not holding onto You
But You’re holding onto me

These lyrics from a Casting Crowns song that remind me God is holding on and not the other way around have been a comfort during this sad and difficult time; the day I learned of Jim’s passing, those words kept playing in my mind while I was driving. I don’t cry very often, and I like to think the light rain falling that day was for the tears I felt unable to shed, but listening to that song and being reminded that God is holding on allowed me an opportunity to cry for Jim’s passing. 

The day I heard he passed, I knew I wanted to say something at his service, but I didn’t know what at the time. I only knew him for not quite three years before he passed, so I don’t have any deep, meaningful, or funny stories to share about his life. In the time I’ve known him, his health limited his travel ability, so almost the only time I spent with him was when Jaimee and I would visit Denton. The most meaningful one-on-one conversation we had was the day I talked with him about marrying Jaimee when I asked him about his life, but there were things I still didn’t know about him until Jaimee and I were sorting through photos for his slideshow.

Jim, or as I had started calling him “J-Pop” in recent months, was by no means perfect; he was a man rough around the edges. He was stubborn with a sarcastic sense of humor; we connected over that shared style of humor and a love for his daughter Jaimee. There’s a special place in his heart for Jaimee, being his only daughter, his only child. Both are strong-willed people, and they had their disagreements, but at the end of the day they loved each other. I know he wanted to see her happy and was glad he lived long enough to walk her down the aisle, even if it was only part of the way. 

Before we met, Jaimee was his primary caretaker, so he came to depend on her for a lot. I never said it before he passed, but there were times I felt as if I took her away from him, but sometimes change motivates growth. When Jaimee and I first got engaged and she was getting ready to move out, Jim went into denial that his little girl was growing up, but he eventually came to terms with what was happening. Once he accepted she was moving out and getting married, he started to do more things for himself for a while, which improved his demeanor, but at some point his health began to decline again. Because he had health problems, lived alone, and was a bit of a distance from us, we wanted him to think about living in a retirement community, but being the stubborn man he was, he didn’t want to leave his house or his cats. He loved those cats and took care of them, often at the expense of himself and his health. I’m not sure if he loved Jaimee or his cats more, but he didn’t have pictures of his cats around his house or in his wallet.

Since he didn’t travel much, there wasn’t a lot we could do together, but after Jaimee and I got married, we would go to Denton to visit every few Saturdays, spend some time together, and maybe play Spades or Farkle with Jim and Janet. You need four people for Spades, and Janet wasn’t very good when we started playing, but Jim taught her to become a much better Spades player and a more-formidable opponent. Even though we didn’t do much together as a family, those visits would brighten his day.

We also liked to joke around together. While playing games, he would jokingly tell me to watch out for Jaimee as if she was trouble. As we would get ready to leave for the day, he would jokingly tell her to take care of me like I was helpless, and we would tell him we take care of each other. We shared other jokes and sarcastic quips together over the last couple years. Jim may be gone, but his sense of humor lives on through Jaimee.

God’s timing is never our timing. Jim was months away from turning 70, a milestone we would’ve liked to celebrate together. He may not have lived as long as we would’ve liked, but he lived longer than even he expected and got to see his only daughter get married. We wish Jim could’ve lived a few more years, maybe one day get to see and hold a grandchild, but God had other plans. We may never know why Jim was taken from us when he was, but I am reminded that God is still here; he is in control and has His reasons, and He is still holding onto us, and this has brought me comfort as we mourn Jim’s passing. We’re told in 1 Thessalonians – which the pastor read for us– that we who are in Christ don’t mourn as those who have no hope; hope in this case is not a wishful longing, but an assurance of what is to come, that we will one day see our loved ones who have died in Christ; though we grieve now for Jim’s passing, one day we will see him again.

We may never plan for the day we lose a loved one, but that day still comes.
We may never expect to say that last goodbye, but those words will be spoken.
We think we’ll see someone tomorrow, but sometimes tomorrow comes alone.

If you love someone, don’t neglect to tell them so.
Always say goodbye when you leave the ones you know.
There will be a time you can’t, for tomorrow will one day come alone.

Jim, we love you and miss you. For now we say goodbye, but someday we’ll see you again.

jim

Sometimes Tomorrow Comes Alone

(In honor of my father-in-law, who passed away in early June)

We may never plan for the day we lose a loved one, but that day still comes.
We may never expect to say that last goodbye, but those words will be spoken.
We think we’ll see someone tomorrow, but sometimes tomorrow comes alone.

If you love someone, don’t neglect to tell them so.
Always say goodbye when you leave the ones you know.
There will be a time you can’t, for tomorrow will one day come alone.

Ten Years Later…

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It’s been about ten years since my life first took a change for the better. I didn’t know how much could change in that length of time, but looking back I can see how different my life looks compared to what it was.

The short version is my life was going nowhere. I was stuck in empty routines and living with untapped potential. I was somewhat self-enclosed and shut off from people around me. In some ways, I struggled with depression and didn’t have much sense of self-worth. I felt as if no one knew the real me or cared. I had what I call “hello, goodbye” relationships.1

I grew up in the church, so I know what it’s like to live in a “church world” bubble and not see or understand what’s going on in the rest of the world, to not care about what’s going on around me.  It eventually became a place I went to, something I did, a mindless routine in a week of nothing. For a little over 24 years, I stayed at the church I was basically born into and the place I got saved, but I finally decided to leave a place I had grown up and venture somewhere else. By the time I left, there was a generational gap between most of the people and myself; my brother and I were the “young adults.” It’s hard to feel a sense of belonging if there’s no one to relate.2

Prior to leaving I had felt little real world connection and instead retreated into an online world where I had connected with people I didn’t know in person. Ironically, I developed some lacking social skills by interacting with people online and being part of their virtual community. I was (still am sorta) part of a LEGO forum that allowed me to express myself and connect with others in ways I hadn’t previously learned.3 I’ve since had a chance to meet some of these people and develop some friendships with them.

Before stepping out of what we knew, my brother and I were invited to visit a few church locations, one of which we chose to become members. There were plenty of people around our age, and there was some activity for such people, the first such event for us being June 17, 2009. So we settled in, though I stayed for about four years. In that time, I began to cultivate friendships with people my own age and more or less left the online forum for real world relationships. (This was also when Facebook and social media started taking off.) While I was part of this community, I did have a chance to travel to Hungary a couple of times and teach English at a summer camp, which was something I’d never done before. (It was also my first flight… two birds, one stone.) Eventually the number of young adults began to decline– along with other changes, and I again started to feel as if something was missing.

Before leaving there, I had been part of Bible study comprised of people I didn’t at first know but grew close with. It was led by a couple who became like mentors to me; they taught me things about myself and helped me grow into adulthood like no one else before. Under their guidance, I got my first “real” job, bought my first car, and moved out of my parents’ house. But then came the time the couple moved to California. It was bittersweet. We were sad to see them go but happy for their new beginning. Also, we had become somewhat insulated within our group, and after they left, the group kind of fell apart for various reasons (not necessarily all bad ones). We each branched out in different directions; some of us still keep in touch, but for the most part, people have since gone different ways.

That job I mentioned was not the greatest thing since sliced bread, but it did allow me an opportunity to grow as a person and develop some work skills, but it was a night job, so it also severely isolated me more than I had been previously and made me really feel the need for other people in my life. For five-and-a-half years, I worked nights and didn’t have much opportunity for social interaction outside of work. Since I worked nights, I was perpetually tired and miserable; I learned how much I had taken sleeping at nights for granted.4

Once the Bible study group dissolved, I felt more and more alone. I was living by myself and still working nights, and there weren’t a lot of people my age around me. Several months later, I wound up at a new church community with people around my own age, which was cathartic and helpful. For a time in my life, being around older people made me feel sad and somewhat depressed. But I was able to overcome this difficulty by building that missing connection of peers. I eventually found myself having no problems with being around people of any age group. However, due to my work schedule and living arrangement, there was so much I couldn’t be a part of, so I still had very little social life.

As I mentioned, I lived by myself part of the time I working nights. I managed for two-and-a-half years, and I learned more about myself. Unfortunately, due to circumstances, I opted to find a roommate and ended up in house with some other guys. Within a year of moving, my life took a few more major turns, and this was again for the better. I managed to find a job that is better in so many ways. After several years of working nights, I was finally able to work days and soon began to feel alive again.5 Soon after starting my job, I met the woman I would marry within a year’s time. : Since I began my daytime job, I was able to get better transportation (and I drove happily ever after, right?).

Aside from connecting with other people, being part of my current church community has allowed me creative opportunities like never before. During the time I felt little connection to the real world, I would write for myself in a journal because it seemed no one paid attention. Then I started relating to people online and in the real world, then began writing for audiences beyond myself. Eventually I figured out to some degree who I was as an artist and learned to write and share more openly. I’ve had some public performances, which I’ve enjoyed.

As I look back and reminisce, I see how my life is different. During the past 10 years, my life has had several changes, major and minor. There’s a lot more I could write about: of celebration and loss, of new places and experiences, of things learned, and the list goes on. But there are decisions I regret and mental reminders I’d rather forget, things I wish could’ve gone differently, but that is the past and cannot be change. 

I may not have always seen God’s hand during my circumstances or understood why at the time, but I know He has brought me through for a purpose, even if I don’t know what. I may not have always focused on God during these last ten years of transition, but I know He’s watching over me. All I have to do is look back and see how my life has changed from someone who basically wanted to be left alone to someone who is learning to love other people and enjoys being alive.

Who knows what the next ten years will bring.


The kind in which people ask how you’re doing, and you say “fine/okay” and they say “good” and move on.

There was one older guy I talked with about stuff, but he had passed away shortly before I left.

The Internet is such a wonderfully-interesting tool.

I have a perpetual reminder of my job via tinnitus in my left ear.

I still have issues with sleeping at times, but for the most part I feel more energized than I once did.