Politics: Sleight of Hands, Swindlers and a General Inability to Accept reality

The title says it all.

Even before Donald Trump made "fake news" an household locution and made it patent for all to see, politics has always being about framing information to further an agenda, ignoring reality - eventually, even actively working against the acquisition of sound data about, well, anything - when it comes in the way and don't give a fuck.

You want a "progressive" example?

Progressives are very inclined to accept the importance of nature in defining one's gender when it comes to trans people - something in their biology made so that their physiological gender does not match their mental structure, so transitioning makes them happier, "more whole" persons. There is little doubt that nurture has, for most of them, little to do with their decision (- cough - or I would be a woman, now - cough - ) as only a small minority of them could count  with even a moderately understanding family.

But, when it comes at discussing the evident distress of many men in accommodating a host of social alterations that makes them feel useless and rejected, lo and behold: it is just that these schmucks have not been educated rightly, and a simple application of the right psychological mumbo-jumbos will solve the problem and make these men - well... - like women.

The fact that normal men go around with ten to twenty times the testosterone levels of women, and that this affects some psychological traits beyond the obvious physical ones (*),suddenly seems completely lost to them.   

(*) there is a fascinating interview to a transsexual man in  NPR, in which the guy recollect the effects of testosterone on him during and after the transition from "her" to "him", that I suggest for you to listen; It is illuminating.

You want a  conservative example?

Take the progressive one that I made, and reverse the relative position of men and trans people and you gets it.

 

 

 

Note: this was written in 2019 but I felt like I was obsessing over stuff that, in the end, is not really my problem - after all, both left and right assholes want me dead for offending their crappy values. In days like this my sympathy for Pier Paolo Pasolini goes up to 11. A pity we will never meet (I am pretty sure the dude is up in Heaven, where I won't likely set foot).

Teo

Teo has lymphoma.

He is the cat that owned me the longest, seven years going for eight, so I am going to miss him quite a bit.

Shit, anything gets me crying these days - What a super-hyper-mega-sadist-dom I am.

A Dream

The dude is me, the place is my dining room.

The woman is the [now unattainable?] dream.

 

(To be honest, a couple of women did want her place in the past, it's just that drawing is easier than living and has less constraints. ie I AM lazy.)

African Women

I know, she is a black lady - from actual Africa, if I remember well. 

Is it in bad taste, drawing her in bondage regalia? Maybe. 

Then again, I am not American. A lot of what would be uncomfortable sub-text for a U.S. citizen is a lot toned down when seen from my Italian Hikkikomori vantage point.

What I know of African women is from the ones that I met. On average, they are nice people that treated me fairly - which may not actually apply to my mother, I can say after enough therapy - and whose only grating characteristic was, usually, an excessive desire to save my soul from hell - when they discover that I am agnostic.

So, to my eyes they are simply women whose physicality I really like and, me being me - ie screwier than a corkscrew, this is my way of showing it. 

It is not like white women are treated any better, in my drawings. 

Ite, Missa Est