Help! There’s a bunch of fascists at my Thanksgiving Dinner!

I hope you’re ready for the thanksgiving celebrations, where we turn to look at one another and count our blessings. A time when every self respecting crossdresser looks about at their closest family and wonders “Oh my god! Who the hell are these people!”

Yes, many of my members have said to me that this is one of the most challenging times of year for them. It ranks right along with Christmas, when friends and family wear their bad taste sweaters and we can barely find the time or space to slip into a nice pair of frilly panties or a simple skirt and blouse.

And, of course, there’s the family get together. That joyful time when our distant relatives become our nearest and not so dearest, reminding us that there’s a reason we don’t invite Uncle Billy Bob and his revolting offspring to visit every other weekend of the year. As they pull up, parking in the bike lane outside the apartment, in their Dodge Asshole Wagon, complete with confederate flag licence plate, we are can only reflect that it is sometimes our differences that make us strong. And that as they unload their arsenal of concealed carry weaponry, it sometimes isn’t.

As Sylvester told me just the other day, “My brother in law arrived, and I said to him to make himself at home.”