When I was a child in school, everyone was so fascinated at the one and only Indian classmate the day he arrived. Twenty years later, our entire town has been overtaken by the Indian community. At best, residents who have been here for generations tolerate the massive changes that have taken place. I have great interest in diverse ethnic groups, but I’ll even admit a 95% homogeneous pie makes me slightly wary. It’s no different than going to Kennebunkport and being surrounded by a wall of white.
I asked my friend Thomas why we think one or two ladybugs in the garden is charming, and a thousand of them means it’s time to call the exterminator. He said the human instinct has a natural fear of swarms.
Putting that together, I think there’s a present “optimal” amount of trannies that can be seen at one public place at one time. One lone tranny is suspect. Two trannies is a safe number, just two girlfriends getting together. Not too much, but not lonely enough to be a serial killer. After all, the public judges us using Silence of the Lambs (1991), Dressed to Kill (1980), Homicidal (1961), Psycho (1960), among others. Three is definitely the ceiling, pushing the envelope. It’s tranny “girls night out” or the working phrase “out and about.”
What exactly is “pushing the envelope?” For me, that means legal issues, lawsuits, getting the GLBT involved in bathroom disputes. That sort of stuff. Four trannies is definite trouble, bordering on heterosexual panic on the public’s part. People get rejected from bars and restaurants, owners get support from the general public, while the persecuted tranny gets her 15 minutes in the limelight and overdramatizes ad nauseum.
So if you want my advice, two is the magic number. Three is really the optimal for biological women. The stature of the average tranny being greater than that of an average girl, two trannies take up the “safe space” of three smaller genetic girls.
