Fatal Doses of Radiation

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Well, here we go again. Sweet-natured, tender-hearted, left-wing Tim Knight has once again read something so woke, so nauseating, that local haberdashers are measuring his head for a red hat. I present to you Peter Fray-Witzer:

Wry smirk notwithstanding, he looks like a pleasant enough young man, right? Read on.

Mr. Fray-Witzer (and once you finish this post, you’ll be not the least bit surprised that of COURSE he has a hyphenated name) is a student at the expensive, insanely-left-wing Oberlin College, known as the bastion of well-funded weirdos. I mean, some superb musicians and artists have hailed from there, but it has more than its fair share of freaks.

Peter, the chap shown above, is not just a student at Oberlin, but in the spirit of cranking up being at Oberlin to “11”, he is a resident of a place called Baldwin Cottage, which is exclusively for Women and Trans people. Of course, it normally would be called Baldwin House, like every other dorm on the planet, but, no, of course, it had to be freakin’ Cottage. Anyway.

Baldwin Cottage, being a very old building, got quite chilly in the winters of North-Central Ohio, so the school arranged for some radiators to be installed. Seems reasonable, right? Well, our man Peter had a real problem with this. So much so that he wrote a now widely-shared column in the estimable Oberlin Review with the headline, “Male Workers Allowed Into Baldwin, Unsettling Residents“.

Well, wait a moment. Male workers? Unsettling residents? Were the people installing the radiators completely nude at the time, and did they adorn their genitalia with festive garb? What’s the issue here?

Well, I can save you the time of reading the entire article and hit you with some of Peter’s principal points. Strap in.

  • Peter then wrote of his reaction to this alarming news: “I grew concerned reading the second line, which informed me that I had less than 24 hours to prepare for the arrival of the installation crew, and I was further perturbed by the ambiguous “for a period of time.” So already the guy is having tremors, since the school didn’t pledge that this installation would take place between, say, 11:12 a.m. and 1:35 p.m.
  • Peter then goes on to explain: “In general, I am very averse to people entering my personal space. This anxiety was compounded by the fact that the crew would be strangers, and they were more than likely to be cisgender men.” For those of you unacquainted with cisgender, it’s basically a concocted term designed to marginalize normal people. It means…………..men who were born as men. Who are also sane.
  • Because I know that you, dear reader, are worried about Peter’s fragile mental state during this troubling time of his life, he adds color to his internal narrative: “I was angry, scared, and confused. Why didn’t the College complete the installation over the summer, when the building was empty? Why couldn’t they tell us precisely when the workers would be there? Why were they only notifying us the day before the installation was due to begin?” Powerful questions, Peter. Powerful questions. And I shudder to think of how you’d behave if you were “angry”. Maybe you’d throw a slipper at me or something.
  • “The next day, I waited apprehensively. The workers began installing in common spaces, and I could see immediately that they were all men. If your heart is racing, reading this words, you are not alone, my friend. You’re not alone.
  • “When the insistent knock eventually came, I scrambled to get my mask on and repeatedly shouted, “Coming!” through the door.” Oh, I bet that isn’t the first time that phrase has been shouted out through locked barriers in the hallowed halls of Baldwin Cottage. But I digress.
  • Four or five construction workers stood outside, accompanied by someone who I could only assume — by his neat polo and clipboard — to be an emissary of the College. We stared at each other for a moment before I moved aside to allow the workers to enter. The emissary began issuing platitudes that the work wouldn’t take long and encouraged me to prop open my door. I asked meekly if I could actually not have a radiator installed in my dorm.” Meekly. Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me. And doesn’t this sound like the first draft to a really well-crafted gay porno to you?
  • I left for class, and by the time I had come back, they appeared to be done, though Polo Man warned me that they would return later in the week to check the insulation. Sure enough, they were back the next day. I felt mildly violated and a little peeved. Moving my right hand toward my chest, I could sense my nipples were erect.” OK, OK, I added that last line. That’s not in the article. I just got a little too into the scene.
  • As a person who probably has oodles of empathy for others – – or at least the other friends in this cottage of his – – he asked around to see if others were as shaken to the core as he was, and he related, “others admitted that they weren’t entirely comfortable with the way the installation had been handled and the fact that they were subject to the whims of the contractors.” The whims of the contractors. Yeah, those damned contractors and their whims, what with using their tools and installing the radiators and whatnot. What a bunch of cisgender pigs!

Look, I don’t like bullies. I don’t like mean people in general. And I’m a big believer in individual choice. But, seriously, I read about this fey, mincing, self-pitying, navel-gazing, thin-skinned snowflake and I want to dispatch my largest dog to bite him directly in the nut sack.

And I’m plainly not alone in my annoyance at this persistently woke culture of ours. I will occasionally work for hours on my posts, but one I slapped together the other day took me all of 5 minutes, and it’s become the most commented-on post I’ve ever shared at ZeroHedge (and it’s STILL up there, garnering views, even though it’s a totally stupid throwaway post about this transgender person/guy/individual who was just made a 4-Star Admiral):


Reading about this Oberlin kid makes me think it wasn’t such a bad thing that there was a major war once every generation, and all the young men were required to go overseas and, like it or not, actually act like a man. Can you imagine Scared & Confused Boy storming Omaha Beach? I didn’t think so.

The social media world has, of course, caught wind of this self-obsessed weirdo’s tribulations, and I will simply share the one image that I think sums up the entire situation quite nicely, in spite of the misspelling that sullies it: