So you want to reclaim the frontier? Secure the few states left that are still safe for families? Preserve the prairies those wicked coastal elites scorn as “flyover county” and “Jesus Land”? You want to return to a mythical Main Street, U.S.A., where homemade apple pies cool on every windowsill and American flags fly on every porch?

Such places still exist, but there’s a new sheriff in town—and he’s wearing size 12 Lucite pleasers and a bulging spandex g-string.

Middle America Discovers Its Edge—And Runs Right Off It

If you google any small town in “red” America and the phrase “drag brunch,” you’ll find them everywhere. The plague of low cut-top-wearing locusts is devouring the dust bowl and raiding the ranchlands.

“Drag” is of course not what it used to be, as I’ve written about here before. The term “drag queens” no longer refers to jovial, harmless gay men in evening wear performing what used to basically be an adult clown act. They’ve been replaced by full-blown transgender women performing raunchy, X-rated stripshows as moms, grandmas, and little kids stuff dollar bills into their leather thongs.

Of course, there have always been strippers, hookers, and dirty movie theaters in every cow town on Earth—but this is something new. They never used to let little kids into regular strip clubs, first of all. And the moms never wanted to bring their kids to regular strip clubs.

Even the “Drag Brunch” craze is new—drag has officially left its traditional setting of smoky nightclubs and moved out into the daylight, for all to see.

From Helena, Montana to Des Moines, Iowa, there are hundreds of venues that can satisfy your toddler’s urge to watch men imitating women in sexually explicit ways.

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