And as per usual, Schlichter is having just WAY too much fun here.

You Don’t Have to Be Complicit in a Lie
The other day, they held a debate in Maine, choosing among the potential replacements for Herr Öystërgrüppënführër after his ignominious and cowardly retreat from the Senate nomination, and it was just as horrific as you could imagine. Most of the candidates were just communists, but one was a dude pretending to be a woman. And this wasn’t just any dude. This was a slab of beef, a hulking mook who could’ve been a construction worker if he hadn’t gone off the rails, but is now probably a dungeonmaster in the world’s worst D&D campaign. And you sat there watching this 12th-level ogre, feeling either pity—if he is simply deranged—or contempt if he’s some sort of pervert. Those are your two options. But you also had to wonder what was up with the media and the other candidates. After all, it was a man dressed as a woman, and nobody called out the weirdo in the room.

Let’s establish something right at the beginning. You should have compassion for people who suffer from the mental disorder of gender dysphoria—these people are in pain through no fault of their own. But you should have contempt for those who are merely perverted, and plenty are. Sick or sicko: those are your options. You are in no way required, morally, ethically, or otherwise, to cater to their delusion either way. A dude who decides he’s a chick, much like a chick who decides she’s a dude, is not entitled to your obedient and humiliating concurrence with the lie they are living.

If you talk to gay people, most of them have had it with the trans fanatics, too. But sadly, the faculty-lounge communists, sexually dysfunctional wine women, and the other assorted creeps who have taken over the Democrat Party, think differently. They try to force this mutant gender ideology down our throats with social intimidation when we resist. But, of course, we weren’t always resisting. We tried to be nice. Live and let live, you know—right up until the point where they wanted to live in our kids’ schools. The cultural Marxists exploited what was basic courtesy—you don’t go out of your way to cause people pain unless they deserve it—and morph it into complicity.

And the weirdest thing is when libs look you in the eyes and say, “Yes, this man pretending to be a woman is actually a woman.” We saw that with the head of a medical school the other day testifying to Congress that “the vast majority” of the people who have babies are women. Well, that’s technically true, but it’s not exactly specific. If he were specific, he would have said all of the people who have babies are women. And in fact, he didn’t even need to say that because we all know it. But he was making a statement. He was showing allyship. He was allowing himself to be ritually humiliated by saying what he knows is a lie to people who know he’s lying in order to prove he’s willing to defenestrate his own dignity and honor for the sake of solidarity and cocktail party invitations. That’s the thing—if you’re not all-in with the lie, it’s social suicide in the lofty circles. Just look at all the ungrateful actors who made it big in the Harry Potter movies turning on the author of the books that lifted them out of obscurity.

So, how do we fight back?

With strength. Have the strength to be impolite. You don’t need to go out of your way to hassle people, though the left seems intent on normalizing that. You just have to have the strength not to play along. Embrace the power of “No.”

No, that’s obviously a man and not a woman.

No, a man cannot be pregnant.

No, a woman cannot be a father.

No, castrating males and chopping the breasts off of women and doing other unspeakable things with a scalpel and chemicals is not “gender-affirming care.” It’s an atrocity that would make Caligula puke.

I don’t know if they teach kids fairytales and fables anymore, but the story of the Emperor’s New Clothes comes to mind. Except this emperor isn’t butt naked. He’s wearing a cocktail dress and teetering on stilettos while sporting a 5 o’clock shadow.

Be the kid who points at him and shouts, “It’s a man, baby!”

Seconded, wholeheartedly. Yes, there’s a pic at the link of the grotesque Manwoman-thing Kurt lambastes at the top of the article; those with weak stomachs are strongly advised to skip it.