In a stunning turn of events that has left even the most seasoned woke warriors speechless (and possibly slightly nauseous), Mayor Mildred McMillan, known for her penchant for sensible cardigans and questionable fiscal decisions, has been awarded the prestigious 'Golden Gender Bender' award for LGBTQ+ advocacy. This comes hot on the heels of her controversial decision to veto all city-sponsored Pride celebrations, citing concerns that 'the excessive rainbow saturation could negatively affect the local pigeon population's mating rituals.'
The award ceremony, held in a repurposed abattoir (to symbolize the 'slaughter of outdated gender norms,' according to organizers), saw Mayor McMillan accept the award in a bespoke, gender-neutral jumpsuit made entirely from recycled rainbow flags (ironically, from last year's vetoed Pride parade). Her acceptance speech, delivered with a surprisingly convincing blend of sincerity and thinly veiled contempt for heteronormativity, thanked her 'brave adversaries' for providing the necessary 'resistance' to solidify her legacy as a beacon of LGBTQ+ progress.
'The constant struggle against intolerance,' McMillan declared, 'has made me the woman I am today – a woman who deeply cares about pigeons and profoundly misunderstands the concept of Pride. But hey, at least I look good in this jumpsuit!' she added, striking a pose that would make even RuPaul pause to reconsider her own drag queen prowess.
Critics, naturally, have not held back. Conservative commentator Chad Thundercock (yes, that's really his name) accused the mayor of 'using LGBTQ+ issues as a mere prop to distract from her truly terrible record on potholes.' He further called the 'Golden Gender Bender' award 'a meaningless trinket that speaks volumes about the decadence of modern society.' A statement, perhaps, best left uncommented upon, given Chad's well-documented aversion to anything remotely resembling joy.
However, supporters insist that Mayor McMillan's actions represent a masterful act of 'strategic performative allyship,' – a phrase repeated so often at the gala that it began to sound suspiciously like a demonic incantation. As one attendee put it, 'It's like, really, deeply ironic, but in a way that's… deeply empowering?' The statement hangs ambiguously in the air, much like the lingering scent of patchouli and existential dread.
