Every day I live in fear of becoming the transmasculine Erma Bombeck – but would it really be that bad? A friendly working relationship with the Family Circus guy (who I’m sure is really nice, no matter what anyone says about that strip), a reliable column, put out a book every two years from mostly already-published work, a fat lecture-circuit budget, a couple of kids, a couple of failed pilots just so you could say you’d been to LA, grand marshal in the Rose Parade, leaving your papers to your alma mater – you could do worse than having trans dads carefully cutting out your columns and pasting them to the fridge (the good indoor fridge, not the supplementary Popsicles-and-game-meat fridge out in the garage). And it wouldn’t take that much tweaking to get there…
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