Wonder what happened to the Obama era Tea Party Folks?

Oh, trans women, strutting in heels so grand,
Defying biology with a wave of their hand.
Chromosomes? Pfft, just a suggestion, they say,
Rewriting the rules in their fabulous play.
With makeup on point and a wig that’s divine,
They’ve got more courage than your average guy’s spine.
Society clutches pearls, gasping, “Oh my!”
While they sashay past, batting falsies at the sky.
Pronouns? A puzzle, a linguistic delight,
Pick the wrong one, you’re in for a fight.
They’re women, they’re warriors, they’re breaking the mold,
And your outdated views? Honey, they’re getting old.

Oh, the humble c.unt hair, so wiry, so bold,
A tiny rebel in stories untold.
It curls in the shadows, defying the shave,
A prickly reminder of nature’s own wave.
Not quite a treasure, not quite a curse,
It clings to the skin, for better or worse.
Through waxing and tweezing, it laughs at the pain,
Popping back up like it’s staking its claim.
No salon can tame it, no razor’s too sharp,
It’s the punk rock of pubes, playing its harp.
So here’s to the c.unt hair, unyielding, sincere,
A small, spiky badge of the body’s frontier.

Huh...
Was certainly memorable for them