The Last Gasp of Patriarchy

Patriarchy said to himself, “No, I shall not go.” He felt everyone was trying to shuffle him out the door too soon, that it wasn’t yet his time to exit left (though, knowing him, he would probably choose exit right). He had lived a very long life in the United States, starting from its modern inception post-American Revolution. And even well before that, he splooged out his authority to form the civilization and politics of Ancient Egypt, Greece and Rome. It was more than living, really, but reigning supreme–the unchecked human god of nations that for a very long time accepted and even revered him.

But when the mid-twentieth century came, it started to become clear to many people that Patriarchy was an unjust, unkind man. In short, a motherfucker who only favored white people with dicks. He was startin’ to show his ass. And it wasn’t just that. It was that those he stifled weren’t willing to simply take it in stride anymore–accept it as “the way things are.” Well, Patriarchy didn’t like to be rebelled against so he made a few small concessions to women and minorities in the late 60s and early 70s. Little laws a.k.a. basic human rights meant to appease them (in addition to tossing a lot of available psychotropic drugs down their way, too). You know, Heart of Atlanta Motel vs. United States, Loving vs. Virginia, Roe vs. Wade. All of these cases that the people were “allowed” to win simply because Patriarchy didn’t want his jig to be up. And for a bit longer, his tricks and his flattery worked as a distraction. He even went so far as to permit major world leaders to include Angela Merkel and Barack Obama, tortured as he felt for consenting to this.

Feeling that he had given the non-white, non-penis having populace enough to last them a lifetime, Patriarchy started to revert to his usual ways, unable to pass up on the temptation presented by the U.S.’ 2016 election. He couldn’t very well permit the inauguration of a woman, that disgusting word, no matter how many masculine attributes she was willing to exhibit.

Patriarchy decided he needed to have one last hurrah before anyone tried to kill him again. He needed to do something drastic to show his immortality. And there was no more drastic measure to be made than tipping the scales in favor of a certain orange-faced, yellow-haired fellow. One who had been on the periphery of power for a few decades, but never close enough to truly touch it. But, oh, how he’s touched it now (along with a lot of other things–including vagina–that he shouldn’t). And it’s all because Patriarchy was just itching to flex his increasingly flaccid muscles once more. That loose skin is about to get ripped to shreds though. He knows his long, hateful existence is coming to an end, and he’s got to rage as hard as he can before he joins the dodo in the abyss.

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