God Doesn't Make Mistakes

I recently attended a large party where I didn't know anyone but the hosts. It was fun running around and meeting a slew of strangers, especially for a former reporter such as myself who loves doing interviews. One person I ran into was an attractive fifty-ish woman who I chatted with for a few minutes at the bar while waiting for a glass of red wine. There was something odd about her but I didn't know what: she seemed vaguely foreign, like maybe she was from someplace like Latvia, or perhaps another planet entirely. I found out later she was transgender.

Dressed in a slinky blue sheath, the newly-formed woman had a great figure and an impressive bosom, or "rack" as the young people say. I later learned from someone else at the party that inside that slinky blue dress was her very own penis. I'm sorry, but, "Yuk, ewww and gross." I don't get it. Maybe I never will.

Homosexuality never caused me even a raised eyebrow, having been part of my life since birth due to my parents' gay friends who were often around. Since then I have had countless gay friends, male and female. But cutting off genitals or having fake breasts installed or taking hormones to grow facial hair or make big muscles or whatever the heck transgenders do to feel "comfortable with themselves" is a horse of a different color. And speaking of which, imagine one day your brown horse neighs that he'd rather be white, or grey or black. If I had such a horse I would A, call the newspapers because it's a talking horse and B, tell it to get over it and go out and buy it a blanket in the desired color.

God doesn't make mistakes. Just accept the way you came and move on.