Time to run a finger along academia’s cutting edge:

Book those tickets now, ladies. Time is short and you’ve so much to learn.

You will, needless to say, be taking instruction from “agents of self-knowledge production” who will fearlessly and heroically “expand traditional narratives about madres / mothering as an action, an embodied experience,” and who will be “expanding the terminology of motherhood as it connects to LGBTQIA+ communities, racial identities, gender expressions, surviving oppressions, straddling socio-economic statuses, citizenship, and cultural memory.”

At which point, readers may wonder whether referring to oneself, rather earnestly, as an “agent of self-knowledge production,” as if self-awareness were an area of expertise, actually suggests something other than self-awareness.

Other temptations include “virtual LGBTQ-affirming yoga,” an exploration of “trauma-informed movement,” conducted via Zoom. And for which participants are reminded to “bring your own mat or towel.”

Yes, it’s a “self-empowering learning environment,” in which the big questions will not be shied from:

It’s no use trying to flee. I’ve locked the doors.

While pondering these questions, and the inevitable “intersections of identities,” attendees will be given a precious opportunity to mingle with Professor Sotomayor, along with Dr Ashleigh Strange – a they-person, pictured here – and numerous, equally dazzling “protest organisers, musicians, poets, and drag performers.”

And obviously, when anyone thinks of motherhood, the first thing that comes to mind is the term drag performers. Which is to say, suggestively gyrating men, wearing tights and corsets, and generally being fierce, while demanding your fealty. Your full-throated affirmation of their gyrating, corset-wearing cause.

This, then, is “the expanding terminology of motherhood as it connects to LGBTQIA+ communities.” And nothing screams motherhood quite like a convulsing bald man in a bodystocking.

Above, the embodiment of motherhood.

You will become “AUTHENTICALLY YOU” – authenticity being a recurring theme of the event – by watching peculiar men hurling themselves about while dressed up as women, something they aren’t.

Consider this an open thread. Share ye links and bicker.

Further to our lively rumblings on crime and recidivism, including recent comments, Inquisitive Bird has some relevant data:

That would be this incident here. The gentlemen in question met their maker after colliding head-on with a lorry, while driving down the N7, at more than twice the speed limit, in the wrong direction. Their car, a stolen BMW 3 series, promptly burst into flames, making the identification of their remains a time-consuming endeavour.

Happily, the driver of the lorry survived.

Readers with an interest in the subject are advised to read the whole thing, in which eye-widening statistics abound, along with some rather sensible – and therefore terribly unfashionable – policy suggestions.

Update, via the comments:

Regarding the burglars’ demise, what catches the eye are the gushing tributes from friends and relatives, claiming, rather improbably, that the gleefully malevolent creatures were “too good for this stupid shitty world.”

As if the trio – whose activities included habitual burglary on a prodigious scale, and assaulting and mugging elderly couples and bedridden cancer patients – were somehow deserving of public sympathy. Not the numerous victims of their predations, mind, but the predators themselves. It does rather tell us something about the quality of those friends and relatives, their moral orientation.

Again, I miss the concept of shame.

Oh, and consider this an open thread. Share ye links and bicker.

Or, The Wig Is Doing A Lot Of Heavy Lifting.

In the clip below, Calgary trans activist Victoria Bucholtz, aka Karla Marx, has words – deep, manly words – with Jennifer Johnson, a conservative politician.

Ms Johnson had previously upset activists, and much of the Canadian media, by describing the classroom propagation of trans activist ideology – specifically, setting children on a path to mutilation and castration – as a blemish and contaminant, akin to “poop” in cookies.

I think it’s fair to say the exchange that follows is not a triumph of reconciliation. It may, however, prove instructive – indeed, telling – though possibly not in ways that Mr Bucholtz intended.

Trans activism in a nutshell.

An aggressive, bullying man attempts to intimidate a woman into submission, demanding that she say something she knows isn’t true.

And he’s loving every minute of it. pic.twitter.com/CY0Fa3Wp34

— Mia (@_CryMiaRiver) September 17, 2024

Readers will note how “listening to the community” is conceived by Mr Bucholtz as deference and prostration, and regurgitating things that are obviously untrue. If it sounds like a struggle session, hold that thought:

Readers may likewise wish to ponder the chutzpah of a gaslighting bedlamite demanding “respect” while simultaneously demanding that everyone else surrender their probity and become dishonest and absurd, mouthing lies as and when instructed.

Ms Johnson had also expressed concern about the use by activists, in schools, of pornographic material. Concerns that much of the subsequent media coverage sneered at or dismissed as unfounded.

I’m assuming that Ms Johnson was referring to things like this.

Because, apparently, “vagina slime,” fellatio, and “strap-on hotness” are topics of urgent moral importance for middle-school children. Children who need to know about the joys of masturbating while driving.

But ssshh, don’t tell Mom and Dad.

Mr Bucholtz – “(She/Her)” – is an “LGBTQ+ facilitator,” an “activist,” and “currently teaches at Mount Royal University.” His areas of expertise include “the history of emotions.” When not demanding that people tell lies repeatedly and in public, he is “an avid mountaineer,” a drag queen, and a “dog mom.”

Mr Bucholtz’ educational chops can be witnessed here.

One more time:

Because it’s a “basic foundational principle.”

Via Mia Hughes.

Update, via the comments, where Rafi asks, not unreasonably,

Alas, I fear that if we pull at that thread, the whole sweater may come unravelled. I mean, if, as we’ve been told, quite emphatically, women can’t be transwomen, on account of being, you know, women, then surely only a man can be a transwoman. Which sounds like another way of saying, a transwoman can only be a man.

But hey, pile of yarn.

Consider this an open thread. Share ye links and bicker.

And other modern dramas.

First, from the comments, where Clam warns,

Regarding this:

What grates, I think, is the routine overstepping of boundaries, the casual insult. Judging by the transgressive sandwiches, to which the note is attached, it seems the child was prevented from eating and, presumably, publicly embarrassed.

A while ago, one of my nieces received a snotty note scolding her for sending her son to school with a packed lunch consisting of a banana and a peanut butter sandwich, an occasional treat. Apparently, peanut butter, like jam, is a verboten foodstuff. And so, as a result, someone is employed to poke through children’s lunch boxes and to then write snotty notes to parents. A function doubtless enjoyed.

But here’s the thing. If you aren’t paying for something directly, even if you’re still paying indirectly, via taxes, you won’t by default be regarded as a customer, for whom some minimal regard might be shown, and whose boundaries should be respected. Instead, it’s quite likely you’ll be treated as an inconvenience, an irritation, someone who can be insulted and subjected to condescension.

See also, our glorious NHS.

The item linked above recounts, in abbreviated form, my attempt to return a set of crutches to the local NHS hospital – and how an ostensibly simple task became a 45-minute ordeal with farcical overtones. Entailing a trek of a half a mile or so, down endless corridors on multiple floors, from one department to another, then another, then another. An odyssey enlivened by encounters with bizarrely rude and unhelpful staff, and while walking past posters stressing the moral imperative of patients returning their crutches. An undertaking made as impractical, as maddening, and as absurdly complicated, as would seem humanly possible.

And it’s not entirely heartening to realise, as you trek down yet another corridor, that you’re entrusting your wellbeing, perhaps even your life, to an institution that can’t organise a practical system for the returning of crutches.

Oh, and while I have your attention, I bring dating instructions from the land of the badly tattooed and terminally self-involved:

Please update your files and lifestyles accordingly.

Also, open thread.

In the comments following this, on the proposed reality show Zoe Meets The Murgatroyds, Nikw211 replied,

Among the gems to savour are the endless factional disputes over exactly how capitalism should be toppled, feats of farcical mismanagement, an earnest exposition on “penile imperialism,” and interviews with former self-styled radicals, now sitting by private swimming pools, fretting about fridge ownership, or planning to work on llama farms.

For those with an interest in history, or indeed obliviousness, the three episodes are linked below.

Property is Theft.

The questionable pleasures of communal living. Specifically, a squatted street in Brixton. Contains scenes of waiting for utopia to materialise. And biohazard crockery. Oh, and the primal screaming commune at number 12.

Angry Wimmin.

In which, we’re told that lesbianism is an ideological duty, and that any woman can be a lesbian if she just tries hard enough, is mentored, and embraces the right kind of politics. A claim that has a somewhat self-serving quality, given the people making it.

A Lot of Balls.

The tale of a bewilderingly inept attempt in 1987 to launch a radical left wing tabloid, fuelled by the fever-dreams of Cambridge Marxists. The project was, unsurprisingly, a disaster, with its failure a direct result of ideological pretension. As illustrated by the scene in which, with the paper’s first edition about to go to press, most of the staff is out of the office on a deafness awareness day.

Consider this an open thread. Share ye links and bicker.