Dude, You'Re Not a Chick

You buy into this PC-stuff, it seems you always have, but now I think that you have gone just a little mad. You demand I call you ‘Jane,’ when you were born a ‘Rick,’ I hate to say it, but I will: Dude, you’re not a chick. You can dress up like a girl, that’s entirely your right, and I don’t care a whit about who you take home at night. But if you think I’ll go along, as if I buy into all of it, guess again, I will not lie and say that you’re a chick. You my hate me for this stand, but it’s one I hate to take. To think you can beat reality is always a mistake. Biology is a harsh mistress, for feeling sit cares not a lick, your chromosomes are set in stone, you can never be a chick. And there’s a greater reason why I say these things to you: A forty percent suicide rate, a terrible, crushing truth. There’s no point enabling a mind that may be sick, to die from this is quite insane, please see, you’re not a chick. Don’t storm off and shout names, don’t stay on this rough path. Some things just cannot be changed, cannot be brought to task. I don’t want to see your picture, in obituaries, proud and slick, I’d rather you just get some help, dude, you’re not a chick. …a local was found dead today of apparent suicide. Jane Williams, born Rick, was reported missing by relatives yesterday. Police arrived at his home and discovered a body this morning… God damnit.