Some items from the archives. A Cross-Dressing Special.
His Tiny, Delicate Hands.
The erotic adventures of a strapping madam.
Readers may recall that Mr Yates’ homemade pornography – which he saw fit to send to a concerned parent, as one does – featured our burly cross-dresser using a kitchen sink as erotic apparatus, and while smoking methamphetamine and asking, coquettishly, “Am I a good meth whore?” A question that every parent hopes to hear from someone entrusted with the care of their children.
The Pretending Can Get Competitive.
He identifies as a disabled woman. It’s activism, apparently.
You see, Mr Alme feels “very uncomfortable” if he doesn’t have “an outlet” for his “need to sit in a wheelchair.” That’s sitting in a wheelchair while dressed as a woman, adorned with make-up and painted nails, and while feigning disability. Just so we’re clear on this.
When asked by his wife whether this behaviour is a fetish, he replied, somewhat coyly, “Maybe so.” Our facilitator of sensitivity also tells us that he feels “a lot of excitement” when buying himself ladies’ shoes, particularly “shoes with high heels.” Indeed, Mr Alme boasts an extensive collection.
Because wheelchair and heels, obviously.
The idea that one’s bizarre and rather elaborate sexual kinks – including wheelchairs and cross-dressing – probably shouldn’t be inflicted on random strangers, on work colleagues, and on one’s own children, of which he is the father of two, appears to have escaped him.
There’s Something To Be Said For Inhibition.
Look away now.
Apparently, we’ve arrived at a stage of civilisation in which chunky middle-aged men dress as women and then deliberately piss themselves in public, on camera, as an erotic high, before sharing the recording on social media and awaiting likes. Which is to say, affirmation.
This Is Your Captain Speaking.
Argentina’s first transgender pilot uses cockpit to take endless pouting selfies.
Before becoming a shimmering vision of womanliness, Mr Campolieto was a professional bodybuilder, a proverbial brick shithouse. Hence the bad wig, the transformative powers of which may have been overestimated. And so, the pilot in charge of 250 tonnes of Airbus A330, and on whom the lives of 400 or so passengers depend, is a man whose perceptions are wildly unreliable, at least regarding himself.
For those craving more, this is a pretty good place to start.
Consider this an open thread. Share ye links and bicker.
This blog is kept afloat by the tip jar buttons below.
Have one yourself, barkeep. 🤣
Bless you, sir. May your home not smell of onions long after they’ve been fried.
I’m still intrigued by the possibilities of a cop show called Wheelchair and Heels.
Sort of Ironside meets Cagney & Lacey, but with more transvestism.
Doaa tells us,
She – or rather, she/they – “witnessed a culturally appropriated performance by a local non-Black Hip Hop instructor.” She – sorry, she/they – is therefore now “dealing with the impacts of racial trauma,” obviously.
See has a GoFundMe to finance her “healing journey.”
Oh, there’s more.
One more time – high in neuroticism, low in conscientiousness.
In Auburn, Massachusetts (wouldn’t want it to be confused with the one in Alabama) a new Pantheon of Heroes (embiggen to be in awe of this list of Titans).
Aren’t there health and safety regulations on the amount of delusion you can be exposed to in a single day?
I suppose even basic consistency would be too much to ask. Of professional educators.
No refunds. Credit note only.
Would watch.
I was impressed by the $3,800CAD raised ’til I recalled that won’t fill a basket in a (U.S.) Dollar Tree.
Each week, for somewhat convoluted reasons, our heroes would have to go undercover in a ladies’ shoe shop or a shoe wholesaler, or some other shoe-related situation. And each week there would be issues of disabled access at a very tense moment, usually involving gunfire or explosives.
Oh come on. The thing practically writes itself.
[ Sounds of animated typing. ]
Am I correct in vaguely recalling that professional bodybuilders and fashion models tend to be at least a bit psychologically dysfunctional?
Jargon.
Word salad.
Both groups have high rates of body dysmorphia. Which is pretty much what you’d expect, I suppose.
The cutest one yet….
https://x.com/DiaperDiplomacy/status/1973171316707696911
I vaguely recall hearing that it would be imprudent to date a member of either group.
See: Hot Crazy Matrix.
Has this site been infiltrated by a commie bunny?
This. OMG, this. “And no more beardos”. 🤣🤣😄😂😂🤣🥲
Speaking of delusions . . .
ESR: By popular request, my field guide for spotting fascists.
“Belfast woman.”
The paper’s decision to mislead resulted in 18 errors in one news article.
Make that 19. I missed the word daughter.
Note that the only acknowledgment that the accused is actually a cross-dressing man comes from the mismatch of the mother’s account – “Something is not right with him… He’s asked me to call him she” – and the paper’s own use of she, her, and woman with regard to Mr Avanti.
Remember, citizens, always respect the media.
See also.
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I’ve come to realize these powers only effect the “wearer of the wig”. which is, of course, a band name.
[ Rummages in lost property box, hands pair of ladies’ tights to Steve. ]
I’m sure they can be darned.
And each episode ends with a bitch-slapping from Handi Man.
Darn!
My work here is done.
Now wondering why there are so many pairs of tights in this box.
[ Surveys clientele. ]
It will buy a new pair of ladies tights.
My hat helps me aura farm and appear relatable.
Women of The View.
Well, what fun is it if you can’t make everyone else squirm and look away?
See has a GoFundMe to finance her “healing journey.”
Sheeee-yut, I gotta get me a grift like that. In fact, what if I just copied/pasted that into another Go Fund Ms – asking or American dollars, of course – and just went on a forum like Reddit, posting it “for a friend?” I notice it’s no longer active and the last donations are a year old, so I think it’s ripe to be resurrected.
I struggled to get past the eyelashes.
As does the light of reason.
See also this chappie, a sociology lecturer.
He’s quite upfront about it.
In the link, @David writes:
If I were the student, I would regard the professor’s conduct as a red flag regarding everything about him, and so would avoid his classes. And I would question the integrity of a department that indulges his fetish and might even begin to question the entire field of sociology.
Requiescat in pace, Jane Goodall.
Attempted murder of senior citizen. 99 prior arrests, and yet never in prison.
Mandatory drink to toast her memory: The brass monkey.
Especially since wild monkeys consume a lot of fermented fruit.
But hey, he just wants to pee, ladies.
Oh, and he has a list, obviously.
I think this might be the worst possible solution to the problem.
I mean, propylene glycol is easy to get.
[ Points to bottle behind bar. ]
Can I pour you one?
You keep a supply of… that?
Well, as you say, it’s not just the presumption and creepiness of Dr Cremin himself. It’s also the fact that he’s being enabled, emboldened by his peers and employers, and seemingly shielded from normal correctives, the observance of normal boundaries. An environment in which that happens, routinely, as piety, is compromised in a rather profound way.
And if, say, a student were to find Dr Cremin’s transvestite self-absorption, his self-titillation project, distracting or inapt – if he or she objected to being made an unwilling participant in Dr Cremin’s tedious psychodrama – how do we think any complaint is likely to be received?
It’s hard not to see Dr Cremin’s incongruous behaviour, his gleeful transgressions, as a kind of tawdry power game. There’s an air of gloating. Some variation of, “I can do this and you can’t stop me without being accused of bigotry and possibly being sanctioned by the university. Unlike me, you have much to lose. Now look at my silky, stockinged legs, bitch.”