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Pronouns are hypnosis

I looked up the definition of hypnosis in my tatty, well-thumbed and yellowing Oxford English Dictionary. Luckily, cockwombles can’t hack paper books like a Wiki page or a piss poor online dictionary. It says:

n. the practice of causing a person to enter a state of consciousness in which they respond very readily to suggestions or commands. ORIGIN Greek hupnos ‘sleep’. [1]

You are being hypnotised every day. Well, you definitely are if you doomscroll through X quite as much as I do. Pretty much every news outlet does it, certainly the gender ideologues do it, and we’re very lucky we’re no longer sent to Coventry by X for ‘misgendering’ since Elon let that sink in.

You know what I mean.

Her penis.

She groped the prison guard.

The woman (that is, bloke) was sentenced to doing a bit of washing up every other Sunday following the Guilty verdict (a shock in and of itself) for incitement to violence and sexual assault and she regarded herself as unlucky to have such a harsh sentence.

That sort of thing.

I’ve never boiled piss but I imagine it smells like this.

If a man calls himself a woman (or transwoman (or trans woman) or female or Goddess forbid, a girl), then this is reinforced in YOUR brain by the use of ‘she’.

If a man takes on a recognisably female name like Katie or Sarah Jane or Stephanie, then this is reinforced in YOUR brain by the use of ‘she’.

You’ve been using the words ‘she’ and ‘he’ (and ‘your’ (singular and plural) and ‘we’) since you were about 31 months old. That means I’d developed saying ‘he’ and ‘she’ in the same year as the Sex Discrimination Act became law. Cool beans.

By 47 months old (ok, 3.916 years, is that any clearer?), you’ve probably got all the pronouns down. Even the weird ones like ‘ourselves’, which sounds a bit like “arse elves”.

You understood these words before you could use them correctly. You even knew that ‘ourselves’ probably had a referent that was your family, or friends or neighbours or Church congregation or you and all your freaky little Mattel dolls. You’d worked out it didn’t actually mean arse elves. You got the sounds, the sounds made up a word, the word had a meaning and you understood that meaning, which meant you could match it to its referent and then you made up a perfectly good, grammatical sentence all by yourself, probably after the odd error but you got there in the end. “Mummy won’t make us a banana sandwich with sugar so we’ll do it ourselves”. (The dolls were sod all help. Maybe the arse elves would’ve done it better).

It's so incredibly galling that the use of the wrong sex pronoun isn’t just a troll or edgelord pastime in parts of the internet that if it was real life, you’d never enter that part of town.

No, it’s that IPSO still think it’s absolutely fine. And The Metro. And of course, The Guardian. And maddeningly, The Daily Mail. Do I need to mention the BBC?

You see, when it’s all around you, and you hear it all the time, it affects your brain. It makes you suggestible. No, really, it does. You’re being rewired. MKUltra was never needed. Just have shit repeated at you ad nauseam. That works. And you’ll find you eventually say it too. That’s actually scary as hell. It doesn’t take much.

It’s one of the reasons why they start this stuff in schools. Remember how you’d matched the sexes with the right pronouns by 31 months? Get in there early enough, and that can be disrupted.

Because it even works on the grown-ups. Including the ones who are steeped in fighting gender bollocks. Here’s a good example.

This is Heather Binning talking to Graham Linehan about Baker’s Not Guilty verdict.

Now, Heather accidentally calls Baker ‘she’. Yet Heather has been at this stuff for some time. She founded the Women’s Rights Network, for Goddess’ sake. And then she goes and uses ‘she’ for a bloke. A bloke who is an attempted murderer and kidnapper, no less. A set of behaviours more commonly found within the male of the species.

How could that happen? Because Heather had sat all day in stuffy court rooms listening to everyone, including the Judge, call Baker, ‘she’. Over and over and over again. And saying his name. One he stole from women. ‘Sarah Jane’. Sarah Jane, she, Sarah Jane, she, Sarah Jane, she. And that’s how it’s done. That’s how it happens.

And you go home, you open up the online media press, and are told “she was cleared of encouraging attacks on TERFs”.

Had Heather heard ‘he’ and ‘Alan’ all day, then she wouldn’t have made a misspeak.

And this is why (wrong sex) pronouns are hypnosis. On a massive scale. And when a lie is repeated over and over again, on a massive scale, when you are bombarded with this kind of persuasion tactic, it has another name. It’s propaganda.

But there is a way to counter it. Because it’s YOUR brain and that means the words YOU say are YOUR words. Not theirs.

Imagine you’re in Hogwarts with your wand [2] and you cast the spell “mutatio pronomen tergum!” (Don’t tell my old Latin teacher I mangled that) and as soon as someone expresses the wrong sex pronoun, YOURS and everyone else’s brain hears or reads it as the correct sex pronoun.

Who knows, had the words ‘he’ and ‘Alan’ and ‘women’ (for ‘TERFs’) been used in Court, then it would have sounded very different. And REAL. “Alan Baker; he was found Guilty [3] of encouraging attacks on women by exclaiming to a crowd of thousands that they should punch women in the face and they all cheered heartily.” See, quite different now isn’t it?

Fight back against the hypnotising effect with every cell and sinew of your body. And annoy the fuck out of the media until they put it right. Because right now, the media inheritors of Fleet Street strongly resemble the actual River Fleet. It’s full of foul water. It’s literally a sewer. And it’s rank.

Mutatio pronomen tergum!

[1] And I’ve always loved how dictionaries have a full stop at the end of each definition. It’s just super cute. [2] Mine’s a Firwood. Look it up: [3] If only.



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