Tales Of Privilege – Damsel In The Wasteland

 

I wake up in the underground volcano Patriarchy lair off the coast of Saudi Arabia, a bottle of Johnny Oppression still firmly wedged in my bloody fist.

It’s just another morning for the Patriarchy.

I and other members of the Patriarchy dwell in this dark and dimly lit lair – just like our capitalistic souls – so we can split the rent having donated the majority of our income to the foundation for Promoting Rape Culture.

Every morning routine must be kicked off with max testosterone fueled amounts of oppression.

——–

In our quest to destroy the environment, I use as much water as possible for my ice-cold shower as I manspread.

I stroke my barbarian neck-beard, freshly moisturized with “Male Shitlord” shampoo for a meaty, violent, and non-inclusive smell. . I still am too feminine in my appearance and smell. I viciously spray myself with “Oppression” cologne – the Enhanced edition.

They say that 60% of the time, it boosts your sexism levels every time.

With a loud and demonic laugh, I put on my Bond villain suit – mandatory for all Heroes of the Patriarchy. Our wickedness is now over 9000 on the “Male Oppression Scale”

————

In the distance, the Phallic sky signal goes off.

My toxic masculine thoughts suspect that a damsel in deep and hard distress . I can feel myself become aroused and in glee upon anticipation of the sight of her suffering.

It’s my turn today, to fight for the Patriarchy and to fight equality and justice.

Last time out, I shut down a women’s domestic violence soup-kitchen and blew up a shelter for kittens, but my oppressive male soul needed more to feed it’s black heart.

Opening the door to the helicopter bay is simple – one swipe of my male cis privilege card.

It’s all the small things in life that make oppression a worthy structural and ingrained pursuit.

I soar through the sky in my penis shaped helicopter, emblazoned with shield maidens, threatening words, and malice inducing symbols.

Upon circling the scorched earth and destroyed buildings from Patriarchal privilege for what seems like a man-hour, I spot a transexual two-spirit otherkin transracial half-elf thing with what appears to be breasts.

A female.

I rejoice with masculine roars in surprise having thought females to have gone extinct from years of Patriarchal hunting.

My vicious straight male heart leaps in my chest as I objectify this female with my male-invented binoculacreeps as it struggles to survive in the Patriarchal wasteland.

I can feel uncontrolled male aggression raging inside of me.

———-

Today, a chance has finally arisen for me to creep and mansplain. I grow hard thinking about how my words alone will be so dangerous, hurtful, and oppressive.

It’s days like these that I regret I only have one life to give for the Patriarchy.

I see the female, wave up at me, desperate for straight half-white male help. The vicious male pick-up artist and player, in me demands that I circle her to prolong the rescue.

 

I will choose the exact moment when I shall rescue her.

Finally, I land the copter abrasively and emerge like a Greek god of oppression, the smoke and dust scattering before me.

With my veins bulging in my steroid infused biceps, I sweep her up and toss her like a used condom into the helicopter.

As I re-enter the copter in a most violent and physical manner, “she” glances up at me through weak tear-filled feminine emotions and in a soft voice utters,

” thank…. you…”

I snidely mansplain as my voice bellows with power,

“It was my privilege”.

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