My mind is clearer now. At last all too well I can see where we all soon will be. If you strip away The myth from the men, You will see where we all soon will be. Woman! They’ve started to believe All that postmodern woo. They really do believe their genders could be true. And all the rights you’ve won Will soon be swept away. Reality now matters less Than the things they say.
Listen Woman I don’t like what I see. All I ask is that you listen to me. And remember, I’ve been the Left’s handmaiden all along. You have set them all on fire By saying sex is not attire. And they hurt you when you show they’re wrong.
I remember when this whole thing began. No talk of “cis” then, just woman and man. And believe me, my admiration for you hasn’t died. But every word you say today Gets twisted ’round some other way. And they hurt you when you show they’ve lied.
Internet, your female crones should have stayed the great unknowns Like her mother keeping house, serving her spouse. Not complaining when oppressed would have suited Woman best. She’d have caused nobody harm; no one alarm.
Listen, Woman, do you care for your sex? Don’t you see that their boot’s on our necks? We are occupied; have you forgotten how put down we are? I am frightened for the TERVes For they have hit too many nerves. And they’ll crush us if we go too far. If we go too far
Listen, Woman, to the warning I give. Please remember that I want us to live, But it’s sad to see our chances weakening with every hour. All your followers are blind Too much TERVen on their minds. It was beautiful, but now it’s sour. Yes it’s all gone sour.
Listen, Woman, to the warning I give. Please remember that I want us to live. So c’mon, c’mon She won’t listen to me c’mon, listen to me She won’t listen to me
The lyrics are extremely clear in some places and hard to decipher in others. At two points the Pointer Sisters sing, “why don’t you let the Wilson Sisters set you free?” Who are the Wilson Sisters? Does anyone know? Here are the lyrics I’m confident are accurate:
On a recent trip to Trivandrum, India, I decided to try learning to touch-type in Dvorak (after decades of hunt-and-peck in QWERTY). Here I share some excerpts of my “Dvorak Diary”.
Thursday, January first, Two thousand fifteen
Yesterday I awoke with a clear and simple melody running through my head, a really good and catchy one. Then I had breakfast with ____ and it was gone. This is why I am an introvert: I want to hear the music in my head. It’s like a wilderness preserve: clumsy tourists wander off-trail and step on the delicate wildlife, killing it inadvertently. They don’t mean to but the endangered plants and animals don’t care; they don’t survive on good intentions. I miss my melody. It lived so easily in my head yesterday but couldn’t survive another person. Habitat loss. Like the Sitka Deer, much of the life in my head needs a wide range. I am an increasingly grumpy forest ranger, responsible both for the needs of the tourists and the wildlife. The former endanger the latter so I want them to just fuck off. But I need tourists for some reason, like were it not for tourists the forest would be razed for a housing development or mine or parking lot.