Q Report: Reed Olson Transgenders 2A
To: Agents, Anons, Aliens, etc.
From: Q (K00)
Re: Reed Olson Transgendering
11/5/2046
Hello All,
It’s been a while since I’ve reached back through timespace with a quality report, and I want to assure you from this, the beginning, that you’re going to want to follow this through to the conclusion. I’m giving you 1,000% effort on this retelling/forewarning. Because we were all innocent going into the situation, our minds and hearts open, and then Reed Olson transgendered us without our consent. We had wanted lower property taxes, affordable housing and childcare, and a renewed commitment to education, but what we got instead were our genitals reversed from whatever they had been into an approximation of the opposite gender.
At the point when the Transgendering Army was on the street, the quality of mandatory transgendering was less art and/or science than punitive medicine. Under such circumstances, the work struggles to attain quality. But let’s go back; it is too much to front-load without context. Reed Olson was a local business owner, former elected official, and homeless services coordinator by the time he made his second run at Minnesota House 2A in 2026. In 2024, he had one of the closest races in the state, coming within a few hundred votes of beating his opponent, one of the closest races in the region. The region? Northern Minnesota. The North Country. Where the prairie meets the pines.
He seemed, for all intents and purposes, a qualified and experienced candidate. He ran his campaign honestly, focusing on real issues facing the area and bringing forth reasonable ideas to improve the situation. He was aware of the local political landscape as well as the broader cultural scene. Toward the latter part of his 2026 campaign, his opponent was tweeted (Xed) by Aaron Rupar claiming there wasn’t hunger in our state. His opponent's response was that the information was taken out of context, but the actual context is that his party’s stated goals were an overturning of universal school meals and/or means testing. There was enough virality from the Rupar post to get some metro media dollars thrown Reed's way, and in a surprise upset, a blue wave led him and so many other candidates into office.
Mandatory transgendering began almost immediately. As it was no longer necessary to maintain the ruse, the DFL revealed what some had known all along: their only purpose in getting into office was to transgender everyone against their will (and without parental consent). Squads of Transgendering Tactical Troops were deployed block by block and street by street in a traditional spiral search centering on Bemidji Town Hall and expanding relentlessly outwards. Within minutes, jackboots kicked down doors, pets were shot on sight, and every human being on the premises had their gender reassigned. The process itself was violent, painful, humiliating, and efficient.
If you were considered assigned “male” at birth, your penis was split down the middle like a ripe banana, your inner shaft hollowed out with a surgical melon baller, before having your split penis stuffed up inside to form a man pussy before surgical stapling and tranquilizing. Those considered “female” at birth would have their vaginas sealed with glue before a transplant penis was surgically stapled to their mons pubis (as a Godless universe intended). The transplants themselves were carried around in massive bags, having been grown on O-positive donors a dozen at a time before regularly being harvested for transgendering.
The average 10-person transgendering team could have a family of five entirely transgendered, pets entirely gut-shot, and the survivors so thoroughly groomed by trauma and propaganda that they would submit sexually to even the least motivated of attackers. It was all part of a clearly planned and efficiently executed effort to drive abortions, drug use, and tax fraud. Door by door, street by street, person by person, they moved from downtown around and outward. There was resistance, to be sure, but in general no one was prepared. Even the most staunch proponent of defense against tyranny could do very little against a team, let alone unending waves of teams, slowly, painfully, but surely transgendering everyone in sight.
They transgendered the very old, and for some of them it was a fun novelty. Their gender didn’t mean as much to them as they had thought, as it turned out. They transgendered the very young, and it was painful and confusing, but had also been going on in various parts of the globe for some time. They transgendered everyone in between, no matter what their arguments or complaints. And there were many of both. “I don’t want to be a man!” Join the club. “You shot my cat in the face!” Where else was I supposed to shoot it? “That staple gun is covered in blood and hair!” Who are you, my mom? Oh, hi, Mom. You want to pick a dick out of this big duffel bag?
Soon enough, the district was transgendered. Reed Olson had done it, in total secrecy, under the cover of night, but certainly not alone. It was only through the unyielding and awe-inspiring dedication and organization of the Democratic-Farmer-Labor Party, and the hardworking volunteers who showed up to make phone calls, knock on doors, and make the case for real change for the region, while knowing all along that the real reason for the elaborate ruse was the perverted fantasy of switching everyone’s genders in order to make them easier to groom. Reed’s only regret was being unable to enjoy the fruits of his labors, as he was stuck on one of five committees all day, every day, just trying to figure out the cost of car tabs.
In the end, his undoing did not come as the result of changing the genders of 43,905 people, but from the extreme stress and annoyance of the state legislature. His achievements turned to ash in his mouth as every hour of his life slipped away into mediocrity and bureaucracy. What could have been his best years as an artist, humanitarian, and organizer were instead spent bean-counting with people whose only defining feature was the ability to fool people into voting for them. The price of success is boredom as surely as the wages of sin are death. There was so much more he wanted to accomplish beyond simply mutilating genitals: building affordable housing, rising to the challenge of addressing escalating costs, helping create a bridge to affordable and accessible healthcare and services. But. Mutilating genitals was what he was good at.
I don’t know if it’s a cautionary tale or an unreliable narrator at this point? I’m not sure if an alternate timeline where he loses and solves homelessness should be explored? I will say that there were complaints about the mandatory transgendering. Some lawsuits filed. One a class action. Nothing moving, as of this writing, but on the books. As always, the only timeline to consider is the one where Nelson Mandela gets out of prison. No matter how much we all want the Berenstein Bears back. Stay sassy out there, agents. Keep your heads on a swivel. Quite a few variables in your neck of timespace. One love, weirdos. One love.
1 ∞ 💗
Q
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