by Harry Jackson
My daughter told me if she could choose to donate to a charity she’d choose LGBTQI. Her reasoning for this was it would be hard for persons of a non heterosexual orientation to get a job. I agreed that if a hairy muscle bound plumber turned up for an interview in a dress and make up, he’d be unlikely to make the short list. However, given it’s not yet compulsory for people to have their sexual orientation or gender preferences tattooed on their foreheads, it would be difficult to know for sure if someone was L, G, T, B, Q or I. Especially these days, it can be very hard to tell if someone’s had a gender reorientation.
So I asked my daughter to reconsider her allegiance. Perhaps people of race and color need more help to fight discrimination in the jobs market. Reorienting race and genetics could be more difficult than swapping gender. After all a Thai boy can become a Thai lady boy. But for a Thai boy to become an African American Lady boy would be near impossible. Michael Jackson appeared to be attempting to alter his ethnicity and that wasn’t particularly successful. And what was Al Jolson thinking? Sure plastic surgery was in its infancy when he was performing, but did he honestly think he could pull the wool over our eyes with boot polish or greasepaint!
I’m proud of my daughter, she’s a caring conscious kid who wants the world to be a fairer place. I’d have no issues with whatever choices she makes in the future. In fact I’d be delighted if I didn’t have to deal with ‘boyfriends’ ever. Spotty V8 Holden or Subaru Impreza driving morons with all the integrity, wisdom and brains of a stoned cane toad. Interestingly male cane toads are so stupid they will try and hump anything that moves, or indeed doesn’t move due to being deceased. It’s true, cane toads try to bonk dead salamanders. The comparisons don’t end there either. They both smell and it’s impossible to kill them off.
But what about my own charitable allegiance? I don’t really have any. This is partly due to my criminal minimal wage (yes I could give my time) and partly due to my genetic makeup. I come from a long line of tight poor people. But now my daughter has forced me into a position where I have to at least match her intentions. Anything less would be negative modeling and with that comes parental guilt. No one needs that sh*t, so I’ve searched for my perfect charity. I’ve mostly looked for the funniest and maddest ones available and here’s what I found.
Let’s begin with The Order of the Azure Rose, dedicated to holding Renaissance fairs where one can have etiquette lessons. Of course the maddest thing about this is the idea of me, a working class Londoner, trying to behave like royalty. So that ones out.
I quite like the charities where celebrities donate their underwear for auction. Monies raised from this perverted practice contribute to goodly deeds, so that’s fine then. Clearly a pair of yellow stained white y-fronts from my underwear floor aren’t going to raise as much as Ronaldo’s budgie smugglers. So unsurprisingly no-one’s asked me to donate. However I could still be involved by purchasing someone else’s undies, though my budget might limit my options.
I may dream of wearing the knickers Hallie Berry wore in Monsters Ball, but I’d end up with the pants of a ‘C’ rate celebrity from ‘The Biggest loser.’ Then I’d look like a fat git instead of a Hollywood sex kitten. I’d rather see a reversal, celebrities buying the underwear of homeless dudes for extortionate amounts of money. That way we cut out the costly bureaucracy and the cash goes straight to those who need it most. The celebrities would need to wear them too, to raise awareness.
Another crazy charity I discovered was an Irish charity for some kind of prevention of cruelty to animals. They held a husky race to raise funds but apparently the dogs were whipped during the race. Perhaps the anti fox hunting organizations could hold a charity bull fight.
How about the Swedish charity that finds prostitutes for its disabled citizens or The American National Cattle Woman Foundation, promoting the links between a worthy life and beef. I’d rather the Long Hopes Donkey Shelter. The donkeys cost between 150 and 350 bucks, depending on age, health and obedience- a cheap donkey might try and chew your kid’s face off. A 350 dollar donkey has been to The Order of The Azure Rose events, where it can serve high tea and call you sir or madam.
Unfortunately none of these appeal. I have to choose something that’s close to my heart and my realm of experience. I like football. Maybe I could start a charity to help disabled footballers whose careers are cut short. Imagine not being able to buy a new Bentley Continental or a Supercharged Range Rover Sport every three months. And how would they survive if they couldn’t have sex with a member of the latest girl band? No I couldn’t support such a cause, I’m way too socialist.