Life ain’t easy for a busy transgender advertising executive.

As a busy transgender advertising executive I am constantly amazed at the amount of work I find myself doing. It is, however, nothing compared to what I would have to do to account for all the things that the American government lays blame at our feet for.

For example, according to the great and the wise that sit in the White House, I should by my age have spent millions in public funds on gender affirming care, carried out several school shootings, won and returned several Olympic medals for sporting events I cheated in, shared national secrets with our global enemies, crashed at least one military helicopter into a civil airliner, had several abortions, had at least one complete sex change at the great cost to the public purse while in prison, collected social security on behalf of my great great grandmother, who has been dead for 150 years, eaten my neighbours cat, faked climate change science and of course rigged an election.

All this while trying to stay on top of my gender transition and coordinate my wardrobe and trans a bunch of kids. It’s insane. I don’t think I’ve done even half of those things!

Fiona.

Not my protector.

I was talking to Sylvester this very morning. He said to me, “How is it that anyone who was alive in the eighties and nineties- people who listened to our music – could possibly vote for that stinking pile of orange crap?”

“I assume you are talking about Mr. Trump,” I said. “And I’ll thank you not to use that language in my kitchen.”

“Really, though!” He said. “How can this election be this close? People who lived through Boy George, The Thompson Twins and David Bowie… How can they betray the things we all believed in?”

“Sylvester, calm down,” I suggested. “In any given population you are going to get a certain number of people who are either misinformed, selfish or monumentally stupid. People who don’t understand how to use Google to check facts. They’re what we call in Canada, ‘Morons’. We will see exactly how many there are in the US in a few days.”

“You can usually tell them apart from normal people,” I continued. “They refuse to consider any opinion but their own, often buy into ideas that keep them at the bottom of the social pile, and are too uneducated to realise that what they think is commitment is actually ignorance. They fear women, they fear immigrants and they fear people who don’t subscribe to their brand of idiocy. They also often think that their gun is a solution.”

As you likely know Pig And Pig Farmer was one of the first publications to endorse Donald Trump in 2016. Even Amanda, who edits this venerable publication has refused to endorse the foul pile of orange crap this year.

She just can’t bring herself to vote for a person who sexually abuses women, pushing policies that will damage so many people, and only enrich the wealthy few. While Trans healthcare is not her foremost concern, as a mother she can’t in good conscience vote for a person who is denying so many women the right to autonomy over their body. She knows that if one of her daughters needs an abortion, she doesn’t want to have to argue the point with a politician or a law enforcement officer.

“Amanda,” I said as we chatted on the phone while I organised a few things in my office, “most of the things they blame on Biden are nothing to do with him. I assure you this isn’t the first time the middle east has had a war, and while they blame Biden for the immigration situation, I guarantee you that’s something that’s been developing over decades. They’ll take these issues and try and manipulate you into thinking they’re all the fault of the person in power. As for that Afghanistan mess, Trump created the whole thing by being an inexperienced and naïve commander in chief. The truth is, neither of them are great, but Trump comes with a whole fascist agenda – and that’s what our parents fought a war to overcome.”

I then had to ring off as I told her I had to assign a few jobs to the team her and hand jobs out in the board room. I really do think her hearing is going.

“Hand jobs out in the boardroom?” she replied.

“Don’t worry, Amanda,” I said. “Things will work out if everyone keeps their heads.”

Sebastian stopped by during the morning, too. As you know, his sister is named Rainbow. What you might not know is that she’s named after the Greenpeace ship, Rainbow Warrior. As you can imagine she was raised with values around the environment that are dear to my own heart. Here in beautiful British Columbia we live by the words, leave only footprints behind. To be fair, my footprints are usually with a very pronounced four inch heel – but looking after the environment is very dear to my heart. It’s a small thing, but I don’t want my children living on a burned out cinder of a planet. And talk of ‘drill baby, drill’ turns my stomach. If you can imagine a dinosaur looking up at the sky and saying, ‘Gee, isn’t that a great looking asteroid heading our way! Let’s try and get a closer look!’, then you can imagine the way I feel about pushing carbon fuels further than absolutely necessary.

Personally, it’s the trans persecution that is the hardest of many lines that have been crossed. I know of many trans people who are feeling frightened by the possibility of losing health care. If he gets in, that’s practically guaranteed to end. Any thought that RFK has any knowledge or understanding of modern healthcare is beyond comprehension. That Trump would give that antivaxxer any say in health matters defies understanding – yet no more so than injecting bleach to overcome Covid.

Only someone who fails to understand how tariffs work could ever suggest the idea of bringing in tariffs in a country that imports so many of its consumer goods.  The tariffs will come straight out of American pockets and trigger one of the worst recessions the US has ever seen.

And let’s be honest here. He’s going to be dead long before his mess gets cleaned up. He’s an old crock who is making his last play before he dies a lonely failed little man. Most people stupid enough to vote for that will have to live with the results longer than he will. Unfortunately, if he gets in, so will the rest of the US. For those of us who are trans, the consequences will be far reaching. Fortunately, Canada will always provide a home to people persecuted in their home countries.

As for making America great again, if Trump is elected the US will become the laughing stock of the world. Except that if you’re trans, it’s not going to be very funny. Anyone voting for Trump is no friend of the Transgender movement, and they’re no friend of mine.

Many of us are worried. Of course, it’s a worrying time.  However, we will get through this. I’m online much of the time over the next few days.  Visit the website if you need to, and look for the chat system if you need to talk.  I will make m yself as available as I can. We’re going to be ok.

Have a voting plan, take a friend and bring whatever you need in case you need to wait in line. Make it count.

Fiona.

Don’t be left without a leg to stand on this summer!

Following Donald Trumps insane ramblings about sharks this weekend (hear the speach here –TRUMP SHARK SPEACH) I delve into the deep questions that are left unanswered by this unhinged rant. Chief among those is, of course, ‘what would you wear if you had to swim in shark infested waters with sinking battery powered boats?’

This delightful swimsuit in transgender colors is the ideal outfit in which to be admitted to the ER at any fashionable resort. Here’s a selection of great swimwear options.

Quick Dry Beach Shorts – 16.69

One-Piece Swimsuit Transgender Pride Flag LGBT Swimwear – $13.99

Transgender Flag Colors Two Piece Swimsuit – $23.00

You can always depend on insight and thoughtful comment about current affairs and news here on FionaDobson.com. Be sure to support my work by joining my Patreon here – https://www.patreon.com/fionadobsonCD

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Pence – The Man Behind The Mask.

In an exclusive block buster expose we go behind the scenes at the White House and give you a fly on the wall report from the Oval Office. As you likely know, in my capacity as an Account Executive at the advertising agency I am often asked to contribute to some very detailed discussions with various clients. In tonight’s interview I am pleased to reveal some off the record comments shared by certain members of the White House staff.

For reasons of security some of the names have been changed to protect the innocent. And when I say innocent, I mean as innocent as a large pot of Vaseline in house of ill repute.

Now, through the magic of the internet I’d like to transfer you to the 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, as several administration staffers are looking through the morning papers.

Stephen: “I don’t understand it. This rag says I have the dead eyes of a landed bloater.”

Kelly: “I believe a bloater is a type of fish. Don’t let it worry you. You’ll learn a bigger vocabulary when you graduate to grade 12.”

Continue reading “Pence – The Man Behind The Mask.”

You’re going to thank me, believe me.

I’ve been chatting with a few of the members this week and we’ve been talking about how people are handling social distancing and isolation. Rainbow, Sebastian’s sister, appears to think it’s all a hoax and that it’s really just the authorities trying to disguise the fact that this is the dawn of the zombie apocalypse. She seems to think that’s why the streets are so empty. She says they don’t like the sunlight.

There have been some great suggestions in our Whatsapp Group for activities that make this period a little more fun. When Sophie asked what she could do to keep feeling feminine, Lenni suggested going out and getting some clear nail polish – even if you’re unable to dress in public. It helps you look after your nails and feel feminine.

Continue reading “You’re going to thank me, believe me.”

From The Office Of The President.

I get a lot of correspondence on my email and through the various chat channels, as well as Twitter. Now, without betraying any confidences here, and understanding that some of my lovely members are in positions of power that make their identities a matter of some delicacy, I will recount one such conversation I had today.

“Fiona, I get so tired of making decisions every day, I just would love for someone to make them for me. Sometimes, I just feel the whole world is against me.”

Continue reading “From The Office Of The President.”

A premature election?

All I can possibly say is, “What a week!”

Now, as you likely know, I am the very soul of discretion, and would neither say anything to embarrass anyone, nor anything to get myself sued. With this in mind you may need to read between the lines in today’s email. For my many friends outside of North America, you may have to work a little on this week’s missive.

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I found myself hurrying through Las Vegas this week, on agency business. I got off the plane and was in a series of meetings before finally checking into my hotel late on Wednesday evening. The last time I had been in Las Vegas was with Sebastian, my personal trainer, who was here applying for a job. He was in the midst of one of his bursts of Christian spirituality, and had applied to a famous TV Evangelist for a job working as a missionary. The TV preacher was subsequently defrocked, I learned, for being rather too friendly with some of the younger members of his flock. Such behaviour! I wonder if that is ‘defrocked’ or disbaaahed’? Either way, Sebastian did not get the missionary position.

I found my hotel to be full of activity and secret service people, as apparently there was a very important guest staying. At first I thought all the attention was for me, however I soon found out otherwise.
After checking in, I walked to the elevator, stepped inside just as a large entourage arrived and one particular member pushed forward through the closing doors of the elevator. Taken by surprise I found myself alone in the elevator with a large man, who was instantly recognizable by his shock of orange hair.

Now, as I say, I am the soul of discretion, so I will refrain from naming names. The man was, in his way, also applying for a rather important job.  He was very distraught and kept muttering something about a ‘nasty woman’.

To my surprise the elevator stopped after a moment, nowhere near my floor, and the lights dimmed. Being caught in a halted elevator is a very disturbing experience. The man looked at me, then seemed to realise his colleagues were not with us, and gradually we realised we were stuck in the elevator, and may be here some time. It was a very difficult situation.

The next moment I was shocked to find himm lunging at me and thrusting himself forwards. As you know, I am not like other women and have a little extra to surprise any man. As he tried to grab at me, I deftly stepped aside and giggled.

“Really,” I gasped, and tried to stall him, but he was having none of it. He made another lurch and his octopus like hands were suddenly all over me! All right, a very small octopus.

Thinking, I might as well do something about the situation, I pushed him away, smiled and said that I thought I might know what he needed.

“Relax,” I said. “Think of me as someone who can sort out your election…”

I dropped to my knees and I will not go into what followed. Needless to say, I think I can say his pole was looking healthier than it has in a long time. By the time the elevator returned to service, he was looking a lot more relaxed.

As we arrived on the 16th floor, the doors opened and several worried looking secret service personnel hurried into the elevator. My friend then disappeared, leaving me feeling like I needed to go and brush my teeth, in the knowledge I had done my bit to serve my country.

However, that’s not the main reason I am writing to you. As we edge closer to the election I feel it part of my role to urge you to go out, familiarise yourself with the issues and then get out and vote. As for me, I think I’ve had enough of his nonsense rammed down my throat for one election.

🙂

Fiona