Tag Archives: sexist

1974. Fallen off the edge

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That bull outside our window has mooed ceaselessly all night and now it is horse.

Hoarse, son, not horse.

Same thing.

No it’s not. It’s spelled differently.

I’m saying it, not spelling it.

Typical youth of today. You can’t read. You talk talk talk. Or failing that, you text everything and spelling doesn’t matter.

Aha! Aha! Aha! I’ve been proved right!

How so?

That bull just had a baby and it’s a foal. So there!

There’s only A difference between foAl and fool. And bulls can’t have babies.

I give up. You’re just an anti-transgender racist. Totally illogical. And you are homophobic and use plastic. Xenophobic ageist! Come back when you can think straight about gay people and the legalization of maruwanja marjuieguiba maruawana canabas pot.

At least I’m not hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobic.

Repeat of Story 766: Pigs

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(This is the seventh story in a week or so of repeats. “Pigs” first appeared on this blog on 15 November 2015.)

It constantly amazes me how wrongful misinformation has been perpetuated down the centuries. The Three Little Pigs’ names were Marjorie, Eleanor and Constantia. Clearly, because they were builders by profession, the sexist yesteryears couldn’t bear to think of the pigs as females. Book illustrators portrayed them in men’s clothing for eons.

There they are now, all crowded into Constantia’s brick house.

“Go away, you dirty Big Bad Wolf,” bellowed Marjorie from the upstairs window.

But who is this appearing? Why! It’s Little Red Riding Hood on a horse!

“Hands up!” shouted Little Red Riding Hood, pointing a gun at the Big Bad Wolf. Little Red Riding Hood flung back the red hood.

“He’s a boy!” snorted Eleanor excitedly. “Little Red Riding Hood’s a boy!”

“Yeah,” said Little Riding Hood, “my real name is Jason. I have no idea why they paint me as a girl.”

“Save us!’” cried the Three Little Pigs. “Shoot the Big Bad Wolf!”

Little Red Riding Hood pulled the trigger and shot the Big Bad Wolf dead.

“The Big Bad Wolf won’t be chasing you three chicks again,” said Little Red Riding Hood. “That’s the end of Celine and her fearful marauding.”