MFUC & The Trash Aesthetic

                                                              One of the many strange things about Gra Gra Linehan taking up cudgels as a cowardly anti-trans crusader is that he is simultaneously both a man and a total cunt. Genetically genitally it doesn’t make any more sense than his claim to be human. In a voice that sounds like a cross between fingernails on a blackboard and styrofoam packing being rubbed together, he blathers on about being a victim while attacking a tiny minority he typifies as a creation of the middle class. He has the incredulity making ignorance, (in one recent example), to do this from the broadcast offices of “The Spectator”. Their office will only accept   panelling made from endangered teak that destroys 7 or 8 endangered eco-systems as it is logged. No tatty veneer panelling at “The Spectator”....

  P.S. If through some bizarre trick of the internet you see this: Hi Anny, Claire, and Sophie!

The following journal entry was posted, in a slightly different form, on an old blog. The events are, obviously, all fiction, but if they did happen,  which they didn't , they would have taken place in September, 2011.  

 

 

 

  And while you're here why not sample some more of my brilliance over at Man from Uncool? Here's the link!

Mfuc AnarchoSyndicated Blogs, 15 hits on our last entry and just so proud.

If you like decent, if sometimes erratic, writing you can find me on twitter, from time time, at https://twitter.com/opshopulence

About, and out, three years ago. I see Annie again today. She looks warily at me as she descends the stairs. She is warm brown skin, long straight hair, and tired beauty. It’s a beauty as fragile as a middle aged fag’s ego, although, missing the latter’s serrated edges.  Gripping my hand to greet me, she massages and holds it firmly. I momentarily forget I am gay. She speaks English with a Vietnamese accent. "Oh, I know you."    She asserts, and I nod , "You were …", she points up to the 2 nd floor coffee house where we met. "You are Goy?"  she asks. "I am", I say, as it is true: I am Goy and I am Gay. She sighs, in a seemingly tranquil way, and tells me, again, a little of the story of Annie. Afterwards, she questions me: "You have boyfriend?", and continues,  "I not have boyfriend, life is hard, but with boyfriend: life is harder." I laugh a little . "I no like man. I want…” she uses a hand sign fo...

*This article has been edited to be less stylistically imperfect. The basic incontrovertible argument has stayed the same.