…in this case the ER was the Superstition Springs driving range. Sure, there were a bunch of things on my plate this day: a trip to Lowe’s for more playground sand (to fill in under the Tiki bar deck), Hi’s Silk Flowers for my annual Memorial Day planting of hydrangea in the front pots, and a deck and Tiki bar to paint and stain, but my iron play on Friday at Superstition Springs has haunted me since.

Maybe it’s because I have a visceral response to the shanks – akin to Quint’s feelings about sharks – reminding me of my earliest days picking up the game. Or maybe it’s because of that little “fix” I implemented back in April to try and resolve the issue of pulling my irons to the right. If I have the choice between pulling my irons to the right and shanking my irons, I’ll take the pull any day.

At any rate, I was getting ready to head out to Lowe’s when my clubs, sitting there all anxious and questioning in the corner of the garage, caught the corner of my eye. At that point there was no question where my first stop was going to be.

The range at the Springs was pretty empty – no surprise on a Memorial Day weekend. My only goal today was to get back to the place I was six weeks ago. Oh, I’m going to make a couple of adjustments to try and resolve the issues that made me implement the changes in the first place: playing the ball a little further back in my stance, and after setting up square I’m going to pull my back foot back a little bit to encourage a draw, but the rolling of the wrists is out, and I don’t care where the club face is pointing at the top of the backswing.

The results are immediate. I’m back to that lovely trajectory I’ve been missing the past six weeks: no more fades. I really don’t like playing a fade, anyway – anything that moves the ball right to left I just really don’t like. I hit a bunch of shots that go very straight. I hit a few that scull straight from over-swinging and picking up my head, But there are no more balls traveling right to left, and, more importantly, the shanks appear to be gone.

I go through a bucket and the range guy comes over and offers me another large bucket. I’m not sure if he’s just being magnanimous or thinks I need more work, but I accept it. And I go through the bucket hitting all my irons, again without a shank. I think I’m still going to have to work out the “big miss” to the right, but it appears – at least for now – that playing the ball a little less forward and not over-swinging will take care of that.

The important thing is that I’m back to hitting my irons in a familiar way, and in a way that keeps it simple and eliminates the moving parts that have caused me so much trouble over the past six weeks. When it comes to The Great White Shank and golf, simple is better. Now I want to take it to the course and see what happens.

Check this pic out: A bald eagle perched on a grave at Fort Snelling National Cemetery. Very cool indeed!

Lots of outside work going on this weekend – cleaning up the patio and the Tiki bar and boardwalk before their annual coat of paint and preservative before the real heat starts coming in. We’ve been fortunate so far: it’s the end of May and I think we’ve only had two days over the one hundred degree mark, but the extended forecast looks like our luck is about to run out, and in spades: next weekend looks like temps will be near 110. And that will be pretty much be it for rounds of 18-hole golf.

That all being said, it’s important to remember what this weekend is all about: remembering our veterans and the sacrifices they have made to keep this country safe and free. Our moronic ass of a president would rather commemorate the Japanese who died in the Hiroshima bombings (I’ll leave it to Donald Trump to ask the same question I’m asking), but right here in this little corner of the blogsphere we remember those who made the ultimate sacrifice on behalf of the red, white and blue. I’ll let a poem say what should be in our collective hearts:

We salute every soldier who’s
served this great nation.
And offer a heart of thanks
and appreciation!

We salute each member
of our armed forces.
And are thankful for their
efforts and resources!

We salute the many who
protect our borders too.
We’d be in trouble…
If not for people like YOU!

We salute every son and
daughter lost in a war.
YOU are what serving this
country is meant for!

We salute the officers who’ve
guided our women and men.
Our prayers are with you!
And our love from within!

We salute our veterans!
Wherever they may be!
Those who served on
land, air and sea!

Offering prayer to the
Lord is our belief…
That he will guide our
Commander-in-Chief!

As we observe Memorial Day this year…
Let’s offer our soldiers
love, hope and cheer!

May God bless them in
all they endeavor
And his peace be with them
today and forever!!

— Jim Pemberton

Hat tip: Poetry Soup

Days until Goodboys Invitational weekend: 49
Location: Superstition Springs Golf Club
Score: 54 + 55 = 109
Handicap: 25.4 / Trend: 25.6 (+0.2)

I’m so glad Exec-Comm finally published last year’s Goodboys Invitational scores, – three tough courses for sure – so that all the Goodboys know where they stand before I assume the role of Gaming Commissioner for this year’s 26th annual shindig. For me, the adjustment didn’t turn out so bad – now I only have to break 100 to lower my handicap, whereas before the MyScorecard.com handicap system had me needing to break 94 – something that, based on yesterday’s outing at Superstition Springs, ain’t gonna happen anytime soon.

It’s not that I played awful – it would have interesting to see what I might have scored at another course – but I played what they call “Superstition Springs awful”, where getting off the tee isn’t necessarily so hard, but accuracy with your approach shots from 140 yards in is beyond essential. And here is where I gamely fought an iron game that has suddenly gone south, taking my short game along with it.

Take hole #1, a dogleg right up the hill to a green well-protected on the left by sand traps and on the right by deep grass bunkers. I split the fairway leaving 160 yards to the pin. My 5-iron approach took a long, limp trajectory into the sand, leaving me both short-sided and a with a down-hill lie fifteen feet from the pin. Now I will say this: my sand game, as with the rest of my short game, has been pretty damned jake lately, but this was an impossible task to pull off, even for me. Which I nearly did – emphasis on nearly. I strode to #2 with a double-bogey.

On #2, a straight 383-yard par four, a big pull left me only 105 yards to the pin. I grab pitching wedge and proceed to shank it (yes!) into a deep grass bunker in front of the green. Another double. A big, fat 5-iron on the par-3 third left me 50 yards to the pin but two duffed sand wedges and three putts later I’m looking at three opening sixes on my scorecard. Another split fairway on #4 was followed by a shanked 9-iron (where did this come from??) into the canal, but a do-over left me only two feet for bogey (that’s more like it!). Which I miss for another six.

Now normally sixes aren’t bad numbers on a scorecard for me, especially if they’re interspersed with the occasional four and five for good measure, but such was not to be the case on this occasion. For the first time in my golfing career I drove to #9 with a card reading 6-6-6-6-6-6-6-6. My playing partner Rich suggests I miss my one-footer on nine for double-bogey and another six if only to break the monotony of it all.

“Don’t laugh”, says I. “I might just do that.” I don’t.

Driving to #10 I know I can’t possibly play any worse than I did on the front – no iron game, no short game, a tentative putter (17 putts) – and yet I’ve still got the back nine which, with the exception of a hole or two each time out, I’ve pretty much torn apart this year. I bogey #s 10-13 (even though it took a couple of miraculous shots that I had absolutely no business making to get me there but did), and I was feeling fairly stoked as I strode to the 14th tee.

Due to the lack of rainfall this winter, the 361-yard, par 4 #14 at the Springs has lost a lot of its teeth. There’s still that pond on the left, of course, but there’s a lot more fairway than there used to be. And you don’t want to go right on your approach either, because then you’re either hitting out of sand or hard-pan downhill with the pond lurking on the other side of the green. After splitting the fairway with my best drive of the day, with only 134 yards to the pin and a 7-iron in my paws, I do both. First, a banana shank into the pond (“Doug, eres un culo de caballos!”), then a yank pulled so far right that it splits a couple of trees put there purely for aesthetics and bounds into a canal. Can you say quad bogey?

I bravely par the 215-yard par 3 #15 but the starch is out of my shorts. I actually bogeyed the always brutal, water everywhere #17, but that was only because a mis-hit pitching wedge sculled short of the water, and playing #16 and #18 I added four more lost balls to make it nine for the day. Still, there were no tantrums, no moaning or groaning – my playing partners were having issues of their own – so we enjoy the day for what it is with more than our share of laughs.

“We could be working stiffs.”, says Rich.

“Heck, we could even be golfers.”, says I.

Back in the cool of the grille over a frosty Sam Adams Boston Lager and a delightful bowl of chili, I review the carnage. For whatever reason, my iron play has been slipping a little more over the past four times out and I’m plum out of ideas as to why. I’m sure a 3 AM call to Hunter Mahan to review the particulars of his iconic February 2015 GOLF Magazine article would help, but he ain’t gonna want to hear from the likes of me. Could also be time for a session with my swing coach Alex Black, but what if I can save a few sheckels and figure things out at the range?

Either way, I know I gotta get my you-know-what together, and pronto, because the calendar ain’t lyin’, and seven weeks from today I’ll be knee-deep in the 2016 Goodboys Invitational with no place to run and no place to hide.

…because the headlines kinda speak for themselves.

Woman Trying to Prove “Vegans Can Do Anything” Dies Climbing Down From Mount Everest

Hypocritical Elizabeth Warren Turned Profit Flipping Foreclosed Houses

Bills GM on football: ‘I personally don’t think humans are supposed to play’

My uncle leveled Hiroshima. We’re not sorry.

Capitol Studios will open to public May 21-22 for 60th anniversary showcase

Paul McCartney: ‘I was depressed after the Beatles broke up’

Woman arrested for letting son drive golf cart, deemed child abuse

Falling toilets snarl traffic on 134, 170 and 101 freeways in San Fernando Valley

These Irish sisters used to be brothers

A few thoughts while contemplating whether or not I try to take on Superstition Springs this coming Friday because I know – I know – I can take that course down:

I’m in agreement here. Never been much of a breakfast guy. I find if I eat anything besides maybe a banana or a few chunks of melon or pineapple I’m sluggish for the rest of the day.

…say, maybe that’s why I always start off my golf rounds slow. The only time I ever eat breakfast is if I’m golfing that day. Might be better to have a dog or a sandwich at the turn since that’s closer to lunch time. Yeah, that’s it, I’m sure… 😉

I read stories like this and my blood boils. What good is having a Republican-led Congress and Senate if they don’t start taking punitive measures against this administration every time it thumbs its nose at them?

OK, but did this have anything to do with their extinction?

As I’ve said, Donald Trump is going to beat Hillary Clinton like a rented mule. And why? because he’s not afraid to raise questions that others have been afraid to. The Clintons and their butt-kissers in the mainstream media have made a life out of intimidating opponents; they’re learning that Trump will not play their game.

As someone living in the Great American Southwest, this is a huge concern. I’ve written before about it – to me, this is a great opportunity for a “moon program”-esque challenge by the President to put the nation’s greatest minds together and find a way to get water to the Southwest. It shouldn’t be a question of politics: California is as blue as Nevada and Arizona are red. And the problem isn’t a lack of water, it’s too many people and not enough water. Surely we can develop the technology…

Two words: Golf turtle.

Days until Goodboys Invitational weekend: 54
Location: Trilogy Golf Club at Power Ranch
Score: 44 + 50 = 94
Handicap: 25.2 / Trend: 24.8 (-0.4)

(A big nod to Frank for the post title.)

Day two of my golf weekend began exactly the way day one ended: fighting my swing on the range as I warmed up for my round at Trilogy at Power Ranch. It was going to be another windy, dusty day out there, and I’m guessing the conditions scared a lot of folks away because today I was going to be playing all by myself. Halfway through the small bucket that featured a couple of shanked pitching wedges and yanked drivers, I figured I could just as well work on my swing on the course as I could at the range, so I saddled on up and headed on out.

A pulled drive on #1 required a lay-up, then a sculled pitching wedge (at least it wasn’t shanked) led to a two-putt for double bogey. On the short par-4 second my drive went way OB into the houses left. But a miraculous 5-iron recovery left me twelve feet for par which I two-putted for bogey. To say I was scrambling would be an understatement.

But golf is a funny game. Whenever you think you’ve mastered it, it comes back to bite you. At the moment you think you’re playing like the Titanic in iceberg-filled waters, the fog raises and lo, there’s an island with palm trees and cabana bar chicks just off to starboard. On the 580-yard par-5 third, I hit the best drive of the weekend, then followed it up with a pulverized 5-wood to 70 yards. I yanked my pitching wedge wide right, then came up short with a sand wedge, then chipped to one foot for a bogey six. Disappointing, for sure, but some kind of switch had been turned on, and by the turn I had gone bogey-bogey-bogey-bogey-bogey-par (the 596 yard par-5 that I missed a three-foot putt for birdie) then bogey before missing a three-footer for bogey on nine.

The key to my game is my tee game. Yesterday (and a bit of today) aside, if I can keep my drives out of trouble I have enough of an iron game and a short game to play consistent bogey golf. Yesterday, all aspects of my game were off. Today, starting on #3 most of it came back from out of the blue. Confidence, I think, plays a big part – if you can start putting one good swing on top of another you just ride the wave until you either hit the shore or get pounded on the rocks.

I hit my drive OB on #10, but after that I drove the ball longer and more consistent than I have all year. Still playing alone, I played two balls on the 560-yard par-5 thirteenth and made birdie with my first ball and missed a four-footer for birdie with the second. The only hiccup – and it was a big one – was on the #1 hardest hole on the course, the 419-yard par 4 sixteenth which is a slightly winding uphill hole with a diabolical green set on a hill that slides right to left. Following a center-cut drive I had 205 to the pin. A pulverized 5-wood left me pin high on the right, but above the hole in the rough between the green and a set of trees.

It really wasn’t rough my ball had come to rest on, it was actually hard-pan. Looking back, maybe putter might have been a better choice but it wasn’t an obvious choice. I grabbed my pitching wedge and the following comedy of errors ensued:
* Chip runs past the hole and down into a grass bunker left
* Chip back runs past the hole and over the green into a grass bunker right
* Chip runs past the hole into the same grass bunker two shots ago
* Chip runs over the green into the same grass bunker two shots ago
* Chip barely makes it onto the green, leaving me a 20-foot putt
* Sink the putt for a crowd-pleasing quad bogey eight.

And just like that I was back to scrambling my way to the clubhouse. I was fortunate to bogey the par-5 #17 after a crappy drive and my only real poor course management error of the day, a recovery 5-wood that went straight into the trees and dropped onto hard pan. But a solid 5-iron left me 70 yards to the pin and I sand wedged it to six feet for a two-putt. A solid drive on #18 led to a bogey for a 50, but take a couple of strokes off of the #16 debacle and I’m right around shooting ninety.

Sitting the cool darkness of the Trilogy grill over a burger and an icy-cold Sam Summer – as enjoyable an experience as a round of golf itself – I looked at my cards from yesterday and today and tried to find a common theme. And I think it all evolves around trust: trusting my swing, and trusting the changes I’ve been making. Yesterday’s abysmal set-up and alignment issues were all about not trusting; today I think I made some progress in that regard but there’s clearly still a ways to go.

I guess that’s the nature of my game, at least at the present time – it’s all or nothing at all. And the secret, I guess, is that when things are going good just ride the wave, and when you feel you have nothing do whatever it is you got to do to survive until it all comes back again.

There’s lots of outside house work to be done next Memorial Day weekend, so the plan is to return to Stonecreek in two week’s time and see where the game stands after a well-deserved break. By then there will be less than seven weeks to Goodboys Invitational weekend. Am I in a good spot? It’s really hard to say, but at least my handicap trend is running in the right direction – my MyScorecard.com handicap index is down nearly two points since last year’s Goodboys Invitational.

Days until Goodboys Invitational weekend: 55
Location: Superstition Springs Golf Club
Score: 54 + 54 = 108
Handicap: 25.2 / Trend: 25.2 (no change)

Cue the music, Raoul…

This is going to be a hard one to tell Mother about.

Yeah, I know – Superstition Springs is a damned tough course – would sure love to see how some of my fellow Goodboys would fare there! And sure, the wind was up today – and I mean really up – enough to make you think you were playing some dusty parkland course in West Texas. But there’s really no excuse for shooting a double-bogey 108. None at all. Not after all the work I’ve put in.

Had an exceptional range session yesterday – probably the best I’ve ever had – that carried over to my warm-up today. I was daring “the Springs” to give me all it had as I strode to the first tee. A yanked drive into the sand later and I soon found myself seemingly behind the 8-ball all day. Not to mention having to play catch-up after going double-double-triple-triple on the first four holes. I suppose I could pat myself on the back for staying calm and hanging in there patiently waiting for my game to come around whereas in prior years this kind of start might lead to a general melt-down, but frankly, that’s not good enough anymore. I’ve worked too damned hard to get out on a course and set myself up for failure by falling into the bad habits of the past in terms of set-up, alignment, and ball-position which I did today. And more frustrating was the fact that I couldn’t troubleshoot and correct the problems in-round.

I thought I had turned it around to start the back nine by going bogey-bogey-bogey (featuring two missed four-footers for par), but I then tried to get cute on a tough pitch from a grass bunker on 13 that I duffed and ended up two-putting from three feet for a double-bogey six. That seemed to take the wind out of my sails, for it was The Poseidon Adventure going in. Three balls in the water on the next hole (two yanks off the tee and a shanked 7-iron approach), a 5-iron hit across the access road and into the canal on 17 (exactly where I was aiming, it turns out) for a triple-bogey eight, and two balls OB on 18 (3-wood drive yanked into the creek right followed by my “recovery” 5-wood blasted over a wall left and across the street into the Springs parking lot) for a quad helped seal the deal.

Under the toughest conditions I’ve ever played at SS, I suppose a 108 isn’t anything to slit my wrists over, but my greatest concern is hitting only four fairways, making 30 putts, and only 8 holes at bogey or less (no pars) are stats I thought I’d gotten over a while ago. On another day I would have walked straight from the 18th hole to the driving range to hit a bucket of balls, but I think I’m going to chalk today up as one of those days.

Tomorrow I’ll play Trilogy at Power Ranch and simply try to focus on my set-up and alignment because I still believe all the work I’ve put in is about to pay dividends.

A few thoughts and notes while I’m in the midst of a total golf weekend:

R.I.P. Willburrrrrr. Mr. Ed was a great show – he may have been a horse, but it was Willbur’s wife who was the fox.

You silly goose. Don’t you understand that with modern-day liberalism it’s all about sex, one’s sexual identity, and the absolute destruction of the traditional family unit. First it taking homosexuality out of the closet and shoving it down our collective throats at every turn. Now it is transgenderism. Coming next will be full acceptance of polygamy and pedophilia. Because once you’ve started down that slippery slope…

This is actually pretty funny. I’m thinking that if “Doggy Duval” McLaughlin and I were to win the 2016 Goodboys Invitational the first thing we’re gonna do is staff an Office of Diversity and Inclusion.

Not only is Frankie and The Pool Boys a damned fine surf band, I absolutely dig their name.

It’s getting to the point where if Clay Buchholz is pitching for the Red Sox I don’t even bother to watch, it’s just too painful. Which is why I wish they had given Tim Lincecum at least a look.

Reason #1,239,017 why I prefer to get my energy from fossil fuels.

Before she started taking herself oh-so-seriously and wrecked her appearance with that new look I really did used to like Megyn Kelly. But just like everyone else who messes with Donald Trump, it just isn’t going to end well with you.

This may sound sexist – OK, it is – but I just have to say, there are some, to be brutally honest, chunky chicks playing golf on the LPGA. Which is OK, but golfers like In Bee Park and Shan Shan Feng shouldn’t be wearing tight clothes out there. Of course, Laura Davies typically goes loose but that doesn’t help, either. Of course, they’re all great players – like Craig Stadler and John Daly, just goes to show you don’t have to look like a Hollywood star to pulverize a golf ball.

Yet another example of the Donald Trump campaign’s fearlessness in attacking Hillary Clinton. Let this be an example to all Republicans out there going forward: nice guys finish last, and politics ain’t beanball.

A big “Happy Birthday” to the twins, my wife Tracey and her sister Tammy, who have made my life quite the experience for the past 30+ years. Just like a roller coaster, the ups and the downs are what has made it interesting. Enjoy your respective days, and my love to you both!

There was always something about our back yard that kind of annoyed me. While I certainly appreciated the general concept of what our prior owners were attempting to achieve – an eclectic mix of water (i.e., the swimming pool), stone, sand (the “beach” where our Tiki bar now sits), patio, and grass, to me it was all just a bit much and a little crowded. Of course, I didn’t help much by plating a bunch of flowering bushes along the cement wall, but that wasn’t the problem.

The problem was the shape of the lawn they designed. Rather than making a nice clean shape that allowed a sufficient amount of separation between everything, the lawn kind of snaked its way too close to the west and south walls, and in a shape that made it virtually impossible for the sprinklers to cover the various tight corners. The result: too many sprinkler heads and too many bare spots that never got enough water to sustain grass.

I had contemplated a number of solutions, from synthetic lawn (at $3,500 too expensive) to various grasses and coverage like dichondra (still too many bare spots), but in the end I knew the only real solution was to reshape the lawn. I called Daniel from Hawkeye Landscaping, and he was glad to take on the job – after all, we’d been partners in crime with my regular guy Carmelo forever futzing with the sprinklers and sprinkler heads. He came out, agreed with what I wanted to do, and showed up the next day with the same guy who had helped redesign our east lawn five years ago.

To get an idea of what I’m talking about, here are a few pictures I took before the redesign. The first looking south from the patio:

The second looking west from the Tiki bar deck:

As you can see from both pics, the lawn and its brick border meander all over the place without any appreciable rhyme nor reason. Being a kind of self-proclaimed minimalist, I’ve become a big fan of open space and clean lines. It took Daniel and I only about ten minutes to plan the redesign, and I think you can appreciate the results. First, the view south from the patio:

Notice how the lawn border now extends out from the Tiki bar deck, creating an entirely different feel from the patio and the stone. Looking west, the lawn and its border have been pulled away both from the large Texas sage and the west wall, and that pesky dead area that could never retain grass is now covered with rock:

Daniel was much pleased with results after the work was completed. As he said, you now get the sense of the back yard being able to “breathe”, with clear distinctions between lawn, stone, and patio. There is also now a connection between the Tiki bar deck and the lawn, and once the dichondra really comes in – something that will be much easier to achieve with the new shape and arrangement of sprinkler heads – it’ll have the feeling of the Tiki bar being afloat on a sea of emerald green. Not to mention the fact that between the dichondra and the more efficient watering system I’ll also be using less water.

I’m kind of thinking that stone area between the lawn and the pool deck would be a great place for a barbecue if those two red yuccas were to be pulled up, but that’s for future consideration. I’m pretty stoked about the redesign and Tracey is too.

Now back to our regular programming. 🙂

I am not a Democrat nor a liberal, nor a progressive. Neither am I a Republican. Maybe I’m a Trump Democrat or a Trump Republican for all I know – praise be. No, as in that interchange between Henry Fonda and Charles Bronson in Sergio Leone’s Once Upon A Time In the West before their epic final duel, I’m just a man, an ancient race. So what do I know?

Not much, I guess.

But I’ll tell you this: why Democrats, or progressives, or the Obama administration are choosing to plant their flag in the hill for transgender bathroom privileges is total beyond me. Maybe I’m just a dinosaur in these kinds of matters, but in my mind whatever sex you were born as, you are. You can create or eliminate boobs, penises, or vaginas, but you can’t change the DNA you were born with. Are there exceptions to the rule? As with everything else in this world these days, yes, but as with everything else these days the exceptions seem to have become the rule.

Want the truth? I’m kind of sick of all this transgender crap. How it makes any sense that 99% or more of society is being forced to bend over backwards (no pun intended) for the 1% is beyond me, but then again, I’m not a member of the mainstream media. I’m going to resist the temptation here of calling Bruce/Caitlyn Jenner and those like him/her freaks. Frankly, I really don’t really care what folks do with their bodies or their lives as long as it doesn’t impinge upon my own freedoms. If it makes them happy and in some way improves their self-worth that’s really OK by me.

But all this crap about allowing men to use women’s restrooms (and vice-versa) is beyond stupid in my mind.

First of all: it’s just a restroom. You go in there to do nature’s business or clean yourself up. You’re not in there to take a civil service exam, hit a fastball, testify in court, or shop for groceries. It’s an in and out thing, isn’t it? So why would I care if you are “inconvenienced” as a female wanting to be a male or vice-versa when it comes to using the bathroom. Do what everyone else does: get in, do your business, and get out. Secondly, there are plenty of other ways if you’re a woman who has manly desires or vice-versa to express who you are and live the way you identify with. Dress the way you like. Frequent the places you like, do whatever you want to do. But recognize that girls don’t want guys in the bathroom stalls and vice-versa!

To me, the Obama administration and those pathetic social justice activists whose sole goal in life is to destroy the family and put the majority at the mercy of the minority are frequenting the wrong stall, so to speak. I mean, where does it all end? And why, on God’s green earth, are they making transgenders and bathroom rights such an issue in a presidential election year? Do they not understand that, like, 99% of people think this is nothing but horse(bleep)? Common sense would tell anyone that the vast – and I do mean VAST majority of Americans are not only comfortable with their sex and their sexuality, but see these are nothing more than bat$hit crazy loons trying to validate their own sense of inadequacy by shoving it down our throats. And I’m with the states who have told the Obama administration to stick it where the sun doesn’t shine.

But this is what happens when you allow moron progressives who haven’t a clue as to how the real world operates in any number of ways to be given a voice in the public arena via the mainstream media. These people are not just misguided, they are pests, just like some mosquito zzzzzing in your ear. It’s time for these folks to grow up, get a life, and have enough self-confidence in their own identities to frequent a restroom that won’t make the majority of those within it uncomfortable.

Here’s a novel idea: everyone’s birth certificate states whether they are male or female. And no matter what you or anyone does to try and change that, well, it ain’t gonna change that, if you know what I mean. And, frankly, it shouldn’t be that big a deal. But when the politicians (on either side of the political aisle) or the mainstream media get a hold of a narrative you can be sure to kiss common sense goodbye, which is why I despise politicians and the mainstream media to begin with.

I’ll tell you this: if Democrats think that this issue is gonna garner them votes in the general election, they’re peeing in the wrong stall.