“I’m not a chicken. I’m a duck.” Riight. Solving the astronomical suicide rate among the LGBTQ. Hint: Not pandering

Seen near the neighbors near the hermitage the other day…

She’s just missing a parasol. Otherwise, if this chicken walks like a duck, squawks like a duck, poses like a duck, it’s a duck, right? Well, no, not always. This one is still a chicken. A clever chicken, but a chicken nonetheless. The thing about chickens is that, even with their literally pea-sized pea-brain, they know that they are chickens and not ducks even if they should pretend in chameleon-like fashion to be a duck. It’s not about identity, it’s about the perception of others like foxes and panthers and such.

Meanwhile, there are those for whom such an admittedly make-pretend world is forced in 24/7/365 fashion into the make-pretend it’s not a make-pretend world, so that it is about an “identity” which attempts to force the perception of others to fit their own, the ideology of a bully: “You’re going to think like I think, or else!”

They fail, of course, also with the themselves. The suicide rate is so astronomically high among these unfortunate pretenders because they realize their non-identity is pervasive. Meanwhile, society panders to them pushing them headlong to suicide. If you want cruel, that’s what’s cruel. No one but no one in this forlorn world loves the LGBTQ et alii crowd more than the Catholic Church, for we tell the truth about gender, but with charity, compassion, with understanding, and with an introduction to what identity is all about in a friendship with Christ Jesus, apart from whom all of us are nothing, but with whom we find out who we really are.