My New Gender Identity is “Emperor” — My Pronoun is “Your Majesty”
Our demands aren’t without precedent.
It's taken a great deal for me to come to this point in my life. I had to come to a mutual understanding in my professional and personal relationships with my editors even to consider writing this article.
My parents were probably hardest hit by this news because my true identity, as I've known all along, seems to fly in the face of any and all previous family relationships and, indeed, a negligible socially-constructed historical reality, of a sort.
And, now that I'm able to look at myself in the mirror and be proud of who and what I am, I wish to thank all who have made my transition possible.
I wish to make this article my formal, public declaration―I am trans-royalty. I know that, deep within me, is the soul of an emperor.
Not one of those awful, messy, “off-with-his-head” despotic rulers but a benevolent one whom His peons, that is, His subjects, will love and adore.
We feel it in every royal fiber of Our Grand Illustrious Being.
We feel very good having finally written this statement. Now, there's no going back. This shouldn’t cause a problem for the new “gender theorists” as even they recognize an enormous spectrum of human sexuality, most of which has yet to be identified, that my own regal sexuality will easily be respected, celebrated, legitimized, legalized and carry the full force of the law upon the benighted who, if given half a chance, would otherwise disagree with me.
To be clear, no one has the right to disagree with me.
If subjective “feelings” are all it takes to convince a genetic male born with all possible primary and secondary male characteristics―including all the requisite male naughty bits―despite the lack of even the vaguest shred of evidence is, in fact, a woman, then no one in that mindset could ever deny my lordly and regnant bearing and heritage.
The pronoun that best suits me and, therefore, must suit everyone else, is “Your Majesty.” And, in a pinch, “Your Highness” will do.
And as to the deference upon which my kingly gender insists, it should cause neither surprise nor hassle as the Gender Nazis have already insisted that if an individual wishes to be called “she” or indeed, “ze,” “zie,” “zim,” “zir,” “zism,” “zop,” “zork,” “ziffle” or indeed “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious,” their wills be done.
In fact, New York City Mayor DeBlasio has made the use of the “wrong” pronouns a finable offence. Perhaps they will insist upon jail time, torture and beheadings in the future if need be.
The requisite pronoun, “Your Majesty,” unsurprisingly, is accompanied by a somatic component―one must kneel in Our presence―Our sovereign dignity/gender would be offended otherwise. Thus, all must comply, first and foremost my servants… er… subjects… the Gender Nazis.
But, even if pressed, We are not pressed to defend Our gender. It is incumbent upon all of my subjects, where'ere We cast Our royal gaze, to attend to all of Our Splendiferous and Majestic Desires. Thus, it is imperative that the government pay for all of the trappings of a court befitting a king of my stature.
And I'm really into long capes with ermine trim.
The “transgendered” among us seem to believe they have the right to impose their will upon the unwilling masses. Thus, it follows, like night the day, that We, in Our Sovereign authority armed with the divine right of kings to any and all treatments, likewise, henceforth and forthwith and so forth… et cetera, et cetera, et cetera…
Our demands aren’t without precedent.
In 1859, San Franciscan rapscallion and ne'er-do-well Joshua Abraham Norton impudently declared himself Emperor Norton I of the United States. Fear not, good people! He is but a mere pretender to Our Throne. However, not only did he claim to be royalty but he was indeed thusly treated. All around him deferred to his faux-august majesty. Admittedly, Norton was freakin’ nuts while We are in full control of Our mental faculties — just like every woman who thinks herself a man despite the absence of that crucial Y-chromosome and requisite anatomy.
Norton I was, using the layman’s term, a crackpot. But those whose pots were even more cracked, knelt and bowed and scraped their obsequence to Norton, pretender to Our August Throne. Surely, those who recognize any and all fanciful (i.e., not based in any realistic sense) genders will recognize mine. And, as Our very gender identity depends upon Us believing We are Whom We say We are royalty, then any and all dissension/sass talk is a sign of hatred, fear and oppression and egalitarian royalphobia from the gender police.
We'd like to point out here that atheists have often crowed that interior perceptions and sentiments about divine experience can't be taken into seriously consideration in a “rational” conversation. It's odd to think these very same atheists are now on the forefront of insisting that the subjective feelings of some confused individuals can now be taken as Gospel Truth. (Please excuse the pun―We are a gifted royal punster and are amused,)
And, again, though it is beneath Our dignity to have to hammer home Our Royal Point, if it is acceptable for a Caucasian woman, born from a long line of Caucasian progenitors to claim to be a black woman as in the case of Rachel Dolezal, then it is acceptable for me to be king. The same thing goes for a man who can claim to not only be female but also a 6-year-old female child as in the case of 52-year-old Canadian Paul “Stefonknee” Wolscht, then We are in the clear.
How about those who intentionally cut off a fully functioning limb because they “feel” they should be thusly hobbled? Less we forget about the Scottish-born Australian man who calls himself “ and took his desire to be “no gender” (we use to call them “eunuchs") to Australia's High Court in 2014 and won. This is perfectly unscientific and irrational as any biologist worth his salt can tell you that all mammals have a gender. Perhaps Norrie has decided to abandon his mammalian status along with his penis.
How about those suffering from species dysphoria―the belief that genetic human beings with whom we can have actual conversations―claim to not be human at all. Instead, they consider themselves all manner of dumb, brutish beasts such as dogs, cats, pigs, cows and the like. They call themselves “transspecies.” Furries make the same ridiculous claim. I once met a woman who desperately tried to convince me she was a dragon. She appeared miffed when I told them that one of my duties as king is to rid my kingdom of all dragons―including poseur dragon-wannabes.
There are emaciated anorexics who think themselves too fat, but we don’t allow them to have liposuction no matter how many fake rights they claim.
We can't possibly be wrong in the assessment of Our own royal gender―just as men who think they shouldn't have the parts with which they were born or use the bathroom not assigned to them by virtue of the fact they are burdened by the presence of a Y-chromosome.
I personally believe that if someone is born with a male phenome, then they are, of course, male. The same goes for those individuals born with a female phenome. However, as long as these objective, scientific, laws based on empirical observation and evaluated through the lens of logic are held in abeyance, it's time to throw my crown into the ring. I can now expect everyone to celebrate my lordly nobility.
To be clear, no amount of pointing out Our parents’ lowly birth is sufficient to sway Us.
In other words, if gender theorists refuse to allow everyone to play by their rules, then they don’t get to make rules for the greater percentage of sane and morally and logically consistent in society.
The floodgates are open, folks! Belly up to the bars, boys! The gender theorists are buying!
His Royal, Exalted, Eminent and Serene Highness, Angelo I
(Lord of All He Surveys)
So as it is written, so shall it be done!