Gruntington Post [Parody]– The passing of the only perfect leftist to walk the Earth will be marked Tuesday night in lower Manhattan by the Empire State Building remaining completely dark. This tribute, for legendary activist Leslie Feinberg, is the only acceptable display that could be mounted, since Feinberg devoted her/his life to destroying inequalities and the distinctions that exalt one gender/race/species/planet/sound/color over another. Ms./Mr. Feinberg, who lived her/his entire life, since 1949, self-identifying as a completely indeterminate gender, also waged holy war against the hatefulness of pronouns, preferring the use of bigotry-sensitive neutral pronouns like ‘ze,’ ‘hir’ and ‘oingo.’
Because of this, it’s very difficult to determine without ambiguity the facts of Feinberg’s life, especially since even the use of the word ‘fact’ was strictly forbidden in her/his presence. It was only by being granted temporary suspension of these strictures by the World Progressive Language Committee that the leftist newspaper, The Guardian, in London was able to compose an obituary. They didn’t actually use the word ‘obituary,’ but the phrase used is too long to reproduce here in print. The Daily Caller describes the resulting “Comedy Gold.” For the record, she/he is described as a secular-jewish, working-class, revolutionary communist, a male-identifying transgender lesbian female by her/his spouse, Minnie Bruce Pratt. “She/he checked off every box there is,” notes Pratt, who also describes with great affection the significant prison publishing successes and third-world revolutionary activities of Feinberg that enjoy exactly the right amount of obscurity to avoid the “sell-out” label and remain attractive to radicals.
So complete are Feinberg’s radical credentials that her/his death is the only known case of existential trans-annihilation. Witnesses say she/he was sitting in a field of weeds playing on her/his beloved balalaika when she/he completely vanished. Recounted Pratt: “Leslie had just finished the Black Panther existential spiritual Waiting for My Ho’, and as she/he hit the last chord, she/he got the most radiant look of total equality on her/his face, and she/he just vanished into nothingness.”
No services are scheduled, but admirers have been showing up steadily at her/his favorite bar in New York City, Fuck the Patriarchy, on 57th Street, to snuff out a cigarette and down a shot of wheatgrass vodka at her/his table, which has been kept exactly as it was the last time she/he organized a pipe bombing there. Like many followers, Yuri Zukov, pictured below paying his respects at the table, do not plan on continuing their radical ways after the death of their glorious hero/heroine. “Why bother? I also wanted to be the perfect leftist. But now that Leslie achieved it? I don’t know.” He paused to wipe away an errant tear on his cheek. “You think believing this shit is fun? Nobody lives like this on purpose unless you can be more equal than anybody else, so you can look down your nose at everybody. That’s always been the goal. But with that gone, … even Bob Dylan eventually admitted he only wanted the white picket fence and a normal girl with no tattoos. I think I’m headed to Texas now. Maybe find me a nice A&M cheerleader. Settle down.” Scattered middle aged hippies at surrounding tables took pulls on their cocktails, eyebrows arched. And nodded.