The real fun comes when the wingnuts realize that science has rejected their addled beliefs once again. I can’t wait to hear Rush and Sean howl that even the medical community has been overrun by degenerate liberals. Expect a lot of shrill arias about “confused” people like Chastity Bono.
Far from being the bastions of a nation with a center-right majority, the wingnuts, day by day, year by year, are becoming lonely Islands of Crazy in a Sea of Sane. And each time the world of the sane delivers another shock like this gender identity thing, the wingnuts on their islands see the waters creeping higher up their shorelines, and wonder when their little islands will disappear forever. Each year, as the semi-literate white baby boomers begin to die off, the Islands of Crazy sink a little deeper into the waters. A month ago they saw Ohio, Virginia and Florida sink beneath the waves.
And they know Texas is next. And they know that even in ruby-red Mississippi, if six percent of the electorate had changed sides Obama would have won the state. And they see their future: fifty years from now, the only place wingnuts will feel safe, is in tiny enclaves in Idaho, Utah, Oklahoma, Wyoming. They will cling bitterly to their Bibles and guns, cling to their survival shelters dug deep into the caves of the Rockies and the Great Plains, and await the apocalypse.
They are incapable of considering the notion that all those people out there whom they hate and fear so much, gays who live openly in our towns, women who make their own decisions, Latinos who no longer need to cringe and hide when a pissed-off sheriff drives by, that freaky-looking Sikh guy who runs the gas station, might not be so bad. Taliban-like, they would rather hide in a hole in the ground than deal with all the incomprehensible weirdness of the twenty-first century.