When you park the car in Portland. 

Also, open thread.

And in, er, child-molestation-fantasy news:

A professor of Ethics at Oslo Metropolitan University in Norway has called to legalise AI-generated child pornography, claiming that paedophilia should be seen as an innate sexuality that requires destigmatisation. Ole Martin Moen, a gay man who identifies as “queer,” currently serves as a member of the advisory board on Norway’s Patient Organization for Gender-Incongruence (PKI), a social and political lobby group for trans rights. […]

Moen details arguments for and against “adult-child sex” before ultimately coming to the conclusion that “adult-child sex is not categorically very harmful” but may result in “risks” of children being harmed… Moen also argues that paedophiles who do not sexually abuse children should be “praised” for their “admirable willpower,”

Not raping children – so far, that is – but really, really wanting to and thinking about it a lot – is praiseworthy, you see.

Update, via the comments:

If readers will forgive a little paraphrasing:

Frisky Nonce: “I didn’t utterly ruin a small child’s life today. I wanted to, quite a lot, but I didn’t.”

Woke Academic: “Oh well done. Have a sweet. And some more child-abuse pornography.”

We could, I think, paraphrase a little further:

“I didn’t stab any random passers-by in the face today.”

“Oh well done. Here are some pictures of random people being stabbed in the face.”

Farcical as it sounds, the dynamic is not entirely dissimilar.

Update 2:

A situation had arisen. || Can you guess ten seconds? (h/t, Things) || The concept of sideways. || Smooth operator. || Temptation. || Patient dogs. || The joys of public transport, part 4,865. || The progressive retail experience, part 434. || They hunt in packs. || I’ll tell you when to stop. || Ladies, is this true? || Gummi bear lovers, look away now. || The collected kitsch of Siegfried and Roy. || At last, a chocolate giraffe. || The sex robots are coming. || “Distinct transitioning odours.” || Sandwich filling. || Three hours of Norwegian snowfall. || Tight dress, big breasts. || It’s a job. || Social gaffe detected. || If you could dance on the Moon. || And finally, please write down and memorise her fashionable complications.

Meanwhile, in theological news:

He describes drag as a spiritual experience that allows him to connect with God. “Drag allows me to process the mystery of myself, the mystery of God, the mystery of love, and the mystery of pain,” he said. “When I walk the streets in six-inch heels and wear four pounds of hair, double-stacked wigs, the power which lies within my mystery is released into the world.”

When not releasing his mystery into the world, associate pastor Mr Isaac Simmons, aka Ms Penny Cost, performs slam poetry.

Also, open thread.  

Christopher Rufo mingles with the dysmorphics of “Decolonizing Gender”: 

The panellists represented a wide range of idiosyncratic identities, expressed in a mixture of New Age and intersectional language—the more obscure and oppressed, the greater the status within the community. The main presenter, trans activist Malcolm Shanks, said he was a descendant of black slaves and Taíno tribesmen and “used to identify as gender fluid,” but has been “identifying more recently as a little bit more gaseous or plasma-like.”

Needless to say, the educational content is somewhat outlandish, often farcical and stupefying – essentially, a shit test for the neurotic, the credulous and the chronically pretentious. Mr Ganesha Gold Buffalo, for instance, a trans activist and prostitute, tells us that his expertise is rooted in “Waking up at four in the morning, five in the morning, every morning, to sounds of my ancestors screaming from outside my window, coming from the ground, coming from the earth.” His mind, we learn, “was decolonised” in nearby woods by howling “nature spirits.” Mr Buffalo, who identifies as many things, bemoans his “constant struggle under colonialism,” and his need for affirmation as a woman with a penis:

I one-hundred percent want to still be able to look in the mirror and see every part of myself as a woman, see every part of myself as a two-spirit trans woman, a beautiful being: my moustache, all of my facial hair, my untrimmed brows, my fat ass, my belly, my big dick, everything.

Other participants – again, self-styled educators – air equally challenging demands, including a belief that they should be addressed with seemingly random words, depending on whim and state of mind at any given time. “I want you to call me ‘Mommy,’ ‘Queen,’ ‘Daddy,’ if I want you to,” says Randy Ford, a transgender activist for the Lavender Rights Project, and whose pronouns are she, her, and goddess. Other terms of address include cyborg, unicorn, and Wakanda.

Along with the lists of stipulated pronouns and honorifics, and repeated demands for cash “reparations,” and tales of ghostly visitations by long-dead ancestors, the decolonisers of gender also share their extensive scientific knowledge. Specifically, that “There’s no such thing as male genes or female hormones or a male body.” You see, these things, which don’t exist, are merely diabolical constructs of the white devil. Hence the reparations, of course.

Videos of the bedlamites and their teachings can be found here.

The organisations mentioned in the piece all receive taxpayer funding, and all have programmes aimed at children.