And in modern-hellscape news:

A terribly modern grievance, I think you’ll agree. Very now.

This is where we are, people. Everyone remember where we parked.

You see, Mr Buckley wanted to “have the experience of breastfeeding.” Hence the novelty breasts. Mr Buckley is also indignant that a woman, a mother of three and a breastfeeding counsellor, might regard such ambitions as a little odd, for a man, and not entirely in the interests of the newborn child.

And so,

And as we’re in the realm of squint-and-pretend:

The term lactation is, however, doing a lot of heavy lifting. Men who pretend to be women, and who take large doses of cross-sex hormones, subsequently developing facsimile breasts, are unlikely to lactate anything adequately nourishing for a child.

Given sufficiently high doses of female hormones, and given sufficiently zealous pumping, some men can be made to secrete a substance from their nipples, albeit unreliably and in very limited quantities – but the resulting discharge is of questionable value to a newborn baby:

As Dr Maja Bowen notes here,

Or, as lawyers for Ms Sussex put it,

At which point, it’s perhaps worth mentioning that the Queensland Civil and Administrative Tribunal, where this very modern drama is unfolding, determined that Mr Buckley’s legal team “did not have to hand over medical evidence over the chemical makeup of the fluid” being forced upon his newborn child, and that such details, i.e., the facts of the matter, were “not of relevance” to claims of vilification.

Similarly “not of relevance,” it seems, are concerns that such secretions, induced by a cocktail of supposedly “gender-affirming” drugs, may have harmful effects on newborn babies, including possible heart problems and genital development.

And so, either we have a man who believes that he can secrete suitably nourishing fluids from his nipples, or a man who knows that he can’t in fact do this, but is determined to indulge his bizarre preoccupation anyway, despite the warnings of attending medical professionals, and regardless of the effect on a newborn baby:

Mr Buckley has also announced that “experiencing arousal while breastfeeding” is “nothing to be ashamed of.”

Which possibly tells us something about the motivations in play.

The results can be… revealing:

You see, caring about your family, your ancestors, your lineage, your children, is “actually absurd,” apparently. And by implication, some kinds of context – where you came from, say – are to be scorned as worthless.

An earlier, related exchange comes to mind:

One more time:

I’m guessing that’s some kind of progressive metaphysics.

Though I doubt mere obliviousness would fully explain this phenomenon. There’s an element of contrivance, of affectation and perversity.

Mr Convente is currently invoking victimhood – because people have read his pronouncements and have either laughed or pointed out why those pronouncements are unconvincing. Mr Convente is also calling Mr Burkett various vulgar terms and is insinuating some nefarious racial motive, despite offering no actual evidence to that effect.

Because if you pause to consider the physical basis of family, even in measured terms, and if you point out the logical idiocy of the “It’s only by chance you were born to said ancestors” school of thought, seemingly favoured by so many progressives, then this can only be explained by some seething racial animus. Apparently.

Mr Convente also declares, with some pride, “I don’t want kids.” Being, as he puts it, “too selfish.”

Our Betters, ladies and gentlemen. See their pieties shine.

Lifted from the comments, which you’re reading, of course.

“Open borders” advocate Nicholas Decker shares his thoughts on totally progressive fatherhood:

So far, so good. If not exactly newsworthy. Perhaps a twist is coming, some needless contrivance.

Ah.

There we go. Not sure if watching is involved.

It seems we’re expected to follow Mr Decker’s lead, into that glorious tomorrow, where cuckoldry is ascendant, an ideal, and where fathers and their children are biologically disconnected and physically estranged. Because that always goes smoothly. No issues there. There follows a rather flattened understanding of genetics, and much convoluted fretting, but the gist is,

At which point, readers may be wondering if there’s something wrong with Mr Decker. I mean, some debilitating condition that he would rather not pass on.

I sense a looming but.

It strikes me as a little odd, in terms of hypothetical fatherhood, comparing one’s own as-yet-unknown potential in that regard against some entirely abstract ideal, the particulars of which remain unclear. Fatherhood, I’ve been told, more than once, is very much a process of discovery, and indeed self-discovery.

I’m reminded of the boastfully oblivious noises poked at here. From childless progressives who claimed to view any hypothetical parenting on their part, the birth of a child, as some arbitrary occurrence, unmoored from any biological inheritance or preceding events. Childless progressives who were seemingly unfamiliar with the strange pleasure of seeing one’s children develop the features and attributes of oneself, one’s partner, and various relatives.

However,

Bodes well.

He cares quite a lot about other people, you see. Just not his own family. Hence pursuing biological disconnection, the breaking of lineage and ancestry. At which point, any passing psychiatrists are welcome to chip in.

And then, of course, there’s the issue of whether biological connectedness might be statistically optimal in terms of parenting, engagement, avoiding neglect, and so forth. As available data would suggest. And which would seem to have bearing on any child’s odds of flourishing and happiness.

Needless to say, replies to Mr Decker on X have been lively:

In educational news:

No, wait. Let’s not rush to conclusions.

However, I think we can walk towards said conclusions at a fairly steady pace.

Since you ask,

Because naffly suggestive pseudonyms are exactly what you hope for at a kindergarten. In this case, at Mildred B. Poole Elementary School.

The educator in question, whose actual name has not been disclosed, took to social media to express his indignation at being asked not to wear his false tail at work. “People wanna be straight up pearl clutching bitches,” he said, in a teacherly manner. Among images of stabbed and bleeding teddy bears, and while describing himself as a “butt-sniffing wolf bitch.”

Parents also suggested that a cross-dressing kindergarten teacher wearing mini-skirts, a BDSM dog collar and black fishnet stockings was, all things considered, a tad inappropriate.

However, despite this assumed imperviousness to normal consequences, the educator in question has since been removed from his paid proximity to children.

Previously in the world of suboptimal hiring decisions.

Because every parent wants their 11-year-old children conscripted into the cross-dressing psychodrama of a mentally unstable teacher, a man thrilled by the thought of children seeing him in various states of undress while discussing “kink” and sexual positions.

“I’m not a predator,” said the teacher, Mr Lamere. “I’m just a woman who happens to be super tall and hot.”

If the incident linked above isn’t sufficiently concerning, I do have more:

A safe place in which he threatens to shoot them. With his collection of firearms.

Consider this an open thread. Share ye links, etc.

Readers may recall this chap here, a cross-dressing educator – the one who records classroom videos of himself faffing about with his wig while expecting applause for his feats of fake-hair management:

This clearly female teacher has a deep voice, do you think it’s from smoking? pic.twitter.com/CGoFhMXy1C

— Dr. Jebra Faushay (@JebraFaushay) May 15, 2025

As I said at the time,

Hence the numerous videos of such men vamping and cavorting in a classroom setting. Marking their territory with an arsenal of bad wigs and curiously oversized fake boobs.

It is, I’d suggest, enormously presumptuous, and selfish, to coerce other people’s children into what amounts to a personal affirmation exercise. A gratuitous flex at their expense. While knowing that the parents of those children may not approve, and may be left to deal with whatever upset or confusion ensues. Any number of inapt or premature questions.

Well. Let’s catch up with the chap in question, Mr James Roman Stilipec, and his predictably emboldened activities:

Videos that his students could easily access. A coincidence, I’m sure.

I know. You’re intrigued. Here you go:

🤰 “I’m having twins!”

Trans teacher openly flaunts his pregnancy fetish online when he’s not in the classroom.

If you didn’t think perverts would exploit gender-identity policies in schools to gain access to impressionable children, look no further.

It’s already happening. pic.twitter.com/La6H5iZYAm

— Gays Against Groomers (@againstgrmrs) November 21, 2025

Yes, it positively screams ideal teacher material.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, parents expressed concern:

“Nobody can see my autogynephilia,” replied Mr Stilipec, with a confidence born of indulgence, and while making sure that any passers-by, including children, could see his colossal fake breasts and fake pregnancy.

Because fake boobs can’t ever be too big. For a certain kind of chap.

A relief to all parents, I’m sure. No hint of anything untoward there. And now that the doors of cross-dressing have been kicked wide open in the name of progress, including the doors to classrooms, I suppose anything goes. Having given away the store.

Our educator, Mr Stilipec, also tells us, “I was dysphoric about [not] having boobs, so I got them.” This prosthetic enhancement, all 36DDD of it, is, we learn, “just for my own self-gratification.” And hey, what’s self-gratification without a captive audience of other people’s children? Five days a week.

But of course.

And because a cake needs icing:

But remember, to be A Good Progressive Person, you must learn to disregard any and all warning signs. Those little flashing red lights.

“Good morning, class.”

Previously in the world of not-at-all-concerning cross-dressing educators, a three-part saga of sorts: One. Two. Three. Though the faint-of-heart may wish to proceed with caution.