The Intolerance of the Tolerant - A Societal Satire

Dear Diary… It’s November 20, 2050 and I don’ t know how much more tolerance I can take. Met the new neighbors today. Well, let me just tell it like a story I guess:

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My new neighbor pulled up in his driveway in his new 2050 electric MuskeSteer. Pausing the remote mower, I waved in greeting. “Hey man. How are you?” It was just an innocent greeting. I forgot about SISC - the new Self Identification Societal Commentary laws. Stupid, I know. Still, the laws had only been in effect since 2042 and, at 75 years old I still have a tendency to think that men have a penis and women have a vagina. Narrow minded, I know. Guess us persons born in the 20th century are dinosaurs. And I best work on getting my terms right so …

The persons rounded 0n me. The look of absoulte disgust on their face was palpable. “How dare you all assume we are a man? I am a people of multiple facets with the legal right to identify as any gender, orientation, or combination thereof that we feel. Nobody has the right to force us into a subcategory merely because we have a penis.”

“Hey ma…, uh, people?… Persons?… We apologize. So sorry. At our age it’s hard to remember. We didn’t mean any harm.”

Their life commitment partner came out to see what was happening. “Dears, what’s going on?” they asked.

“Just them next door. They are one of those gender bigots who still insist on forcing persons into a box mold based solely on birth biology. It’s ridiculous.”

“How dare you call us a one?” I shot back. Probably should have just kept my trap shut.

She…, uh, they, glared at me like I was a pile of dog feces left 0n the stoop. At least I think they were actually a “she.” There were breasts. But, these days, who can tell? I had no legal right to assume either way. The penalties for doing so were getting pretty severe. I could wind up in a PPRC - Personal Perspective Reorintation Class - for the next few months.

I Swallowed my indignant response. “We apologize to all of your multiple facets and recognize all of your rights to self identify as any gender or genders your inner psyche resonates with,” I said in an effort at reconciliation. The thems just harrumphed and went inside, slamming the door on the intolerance they couldn’t tolerate. Sighing, I turned back to the mower remote on my lap. That grass wasn’t going to cut itself.

Finishing the lawn, I steered the mower into the garage, set the remote aside, and heaved myself up from my chair. Well, guess I won’t be getting any Deity Day presents from the new neighbors. I miss Christmas. At least now we have Diversity Month to celebrate. I snorted.

Heading to the kitchen I opened the fridge and perused the contents. Unfortunately my little midnight snack habit had resulted in nothing prepared. Feeling a bit too glum to cook I decided to head to the grocery store. Grabbing my vehicle fob I got into my own 2042 MuskeSteer (All For One and One For Earth) and hit the start button. Smiling at the familiar coppery smell of electric power I gave a moment to be grateful that Elon had solved that problem of exploding lithium batteries before he blew himself up on the space elevator. Still, at least he (they?) had achieved that Mars colony first. Maybe I should immigrate? Think I’d make a good Martian? I snorted. Nah. At least the air here was still mostly breathable - more so since the environmentalists finally got those fossil fuel emissions statutes into play.

Passing by the local Deity Worship Center I gazed in bemusement at the mural of Allah shaking hands with Jesus as Osiris and a large girthed Buddha looked on with huge smiles. Maybe this freedom of religion thing is out of hand. Who’d have thought we’d be back to a pantheon? Wonder if they’ll be preaching the Bible or the Qur’an this week? Noting the marquee sign I saw that this weeks lesson in religious tolerance was ‘The Tao of Diversity” by the Revered Society of Religious Acceptance. That reminds me… I have to get the grandkids some Deity Day presents. Pulling into the parking lot I plugged my MuskeSteer in and headed inside.

Realizing I had to urinate, I frowned. I hated using the facilities at public places. Ever since SISC came into law the bathroom situation had become untenable for an old guy like me. I would never be comfortable urinating into an open toilet next to a penisless people squatting on the next toilet. I’m too old fashioned. Why the heck did they have to do away with urinals for God’s … uh, Deity’s sake? Yeah, yeah…, I know. The urinal was a gender biased construct based on a biological assumption that required one to have a penis in order to utilize it and was therefore banned in all public facilities. Put the urinal cake factories right out of business. Sheesh. How much more ridiculous could it get?

Just as I was in mid flow someone’s walked in. He? They stepped up to the next toilet and dropped trou without so much as a how do you do. I was actually happy to note the presence of a penis before they sat. An old commercial jingle popped into my head from way back … “🎶🎶 Plop, plop, piss, piss… Oh what a relief it is.” 🎶🎶 I chuckled and the guy… people… there glared at me indignantly. Jerking my head forward I hurriedly zipped up and washed my hands. As I was exiting a woman … All right, a people in a dress … was reaching for the door. Not thinking, I held the door for… her?… them. Oh crap!

“There’s no need to do that. We are a fully capable people with the ability to hold our own door, thank you. Just because we are wearing a dress and have breasts does not mean that we are physically inferior to those with male genitalia.”

I let go of the door which swung shut. “My apologies ma’a … Sorry,” I replied. God, uhm… Deity damn it! , I… we?.. won’t ever get used to this. Can’t even be a gentleman any more. Or is that a gentlepeople? I glanced at the door as it once more swung shut behind them. The only picture on the door now was the outline of a toilet under the term ‘Necessary.’ Well, at least they didn’t have to have HIM, HER, THEY, and OTHER rooms. Saves on space I guess.

Bypassing the Ancle Jemima … Poor woman can’t even be an ‘Aunt’ anymore, I thought. It’s a sexist term. Since Aunt Jemima may choose to be Uncle Jemima, we now have Ancle Jemima Pancake Mix…, I grabbed a steak and some Ancle Ben’s rice and vacated the premises.

Settling onto the couch with a nice medium rare steak I switched on the news. Apparently there was a riot at the Brooklyn Deity Worship Center when someone dared to state there was only one God. Ten people were in the hospital and multiple copies of the Bible, Gita, Torah, Tripitaka, and the Qur’an had been burnt. I shook my head. Tolerance? Acceptance? Wow.

So, Dear Diary… This all leads me to wonder… How did rules made to invite and celebrate tolerance lead to so much intolerance and vitriol? Shouldn’t they be tolerant of my right to address people as I see them? We have become a society of intolerant tolerants. Where will it all end?

Well, time to put up my Deity Day decorations. Can’t forget the Star of David on top and the Buddha… Maybe tomorrow will be better. I hope so. Not sure how much more tolerance I can tolerate.

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The above is written solely as a satire on the personal pronouns issue that is such a big thing these days. While I have no issue at all with the LGBTQ+ community and uphold everyone’s right to love whomever they love … that is becoming downright silly. No matter what you personally identify as, you are still a singular person. We are all individuals. So, as you expect my tolerance, please be tolerant of my right to use the old pronouns of he, she, him, her. No offense is intended. Merry Christmas. 😎💕