My IQ is 99.
My height is five-foot-three.
My GPA was 1.8
When I earned my PhD.
I’m not a total nincompoop,
Just a little slow.
If you ever need a nincompee
I’m free. Just let me know!
Tag Archives: Feminism
Dear Womxn…
The title’s not a typo
But a movement that began
Because the words “women” and “woman”
Include the words “men” and “man.”
I support those of all genders
Whether pronounceable or not
But there are a few more words
Of which ye womxn haven’t thought:
Mandatory, mandate
Manuscript and mandolin,
Manufacture, mandril,
Manhole, manager, mansion,
Manitoba, manometric,
And we haven’t seen
Manservant, mend, mental, and menstruate,
Manhandle, mangosteen,
Plus Truman, human, lumen,
Mandrake and manipulate,
Manifest, manageable,
Mannerly and mandarinate,
Mandatory, mandragora,
Manchineels and manticore,
Manicure, manifest, manubriums,
And over 1,600 more.
The point that I am making
Is that “man” shows up a lot;
It’s just a common phoneme,
Not a patriarchal plot.
So don’t mention Womxn to me
Or their mantras, manifestos,
Or other such manure.
Now excuse me, I’m making pesto.
Filed under Poems
False-Rape Culture
The marriage rate is going down
And many tears are falling.
The good men left and left behind
Some eyes bloodshot from bawling.
Men no longer mentor
Any women that they pay
Because they fear the power
Of what said women might say
And smart men will no longer talk
To strangers in a skirt
‘Cause they’re one false “j’accuse” away
From sleeping in the dirt.
Cats think that this circumstance
Is surely heavensent:
They live with 30-something women
Whose exes pay the rent.
Meanwhile the men rebuild themselves
From fighters into monks
And leave the chasing women
To the inner-city punks.
The West now walks on eggshells.
There is no doubt about it:
The feminists have made their beds
And now they lie about it.
Filed under Poems
Yep, Still Single…
Cancer is better than feminists.
Of this I am convinced.
I know people who beat cancer
And haven’t heard from it since.
But fate is not so happy
For those who’ve contracted feminism
For between them and common sense
Is a nigh-incurable schism.
Cancer kills quickly and painfully.
Feminism’s mostly the same
Except it lacks social stigma
And casts a whole lot more blame.
Feminists ask for equality
While cancer makes all of us equal.
Cancer terminates us while feminism
Makes an all-female terminator sequel.
And if you find you’re a feminist
Whether long-term or out of the blue
You have to live with yourself. With cancer
That’s something you don’t have to do.
Filed under Poems
It Would Be Called “231,” Since Women Only Get 77 Soldiers On The Hundred
It’s an age of all-female remakes
Like Ghost Busters and Oceans 8.
My faithful readers probably think
This is a trend I’d hate.
Instead I think the opposite;
It’s something I’m totally for
And here are some beloved movies
To remake if they make more:
How about “The Godmother?”
“Lady of the Rings?”
“The Good, the Less Good, and the Strong Independent Woman
“Concerned Less With Appearance Than Other Things?”
How ’bout all-female “Fight Club”
Or “Saving Private Ryan?”
How about a “Hacksaw Ridge”
That no one has to die in?
I jest, I jest (At least I hope).
But I pray that in 2019
The all-female “300” reboot
Hits the Imax screen.
Filed under Poems
A Feminist Unicorn
She is a shining unicorn
Cloaked in righteous fire.
To her all that’s unequal
Is an injustice dire.
A gynocentric unity
Is all she needs for bliss
And society might like her
If she didn’t look like this:
Filed under Poems
The Absolutely True Diary of a Trans-Whale
I’ve always admired blue whales,
The largest animals ever
Who traverse the world routinely
And are beautiful, noble, and clever.
And so I became a blue whale
But a good choice, alas, ’tis not been.
I’m surrounded by feminist bloggers
Who just wish they could grow baleen.
Filed under Poems
They Probably Met Online
Sharp and cold’s the flashing rain
Upon my black umbrella
Which I relinquish happily
Unto my new love, Stella.
Now her springtime golden tress
Is dry as my nervous mouth
For my journey takes me northward
While she vacantly looks south.
I stammer “what’s your number?”
As an adolescent might,
And I’ll never forget her eyes,
Dark blue just like the night.
“First you give me this thing,”
She says towards my umbrella,
“Then follow me for blocks
“Like I’m some sort of Cinderella?
“I won’t give you my number
“And I beg you, leave me be!”
Then she closed my umbrella
And thrust it into me.
And in that painful moment,
Twice breathless made am I
For my heart says “Dude, she saw you!”
Though my gut tells me to cry.
Thus as my tears join eagerly
The gutter’s growing moat
I wish her path be free of puddles
For I cannot lay down my coat.
Filed under Poems
The History Of Feminism
Once there was an open sky,
Then the humans came on by.
They said “freedoms a pain in the ass,”
And thus were born kings and the ceiling of glass.
This order remained for centuries
Until the women said “ah jeez.”
They got mad and up they spoke
Until, at last, the ceiling broke.
Somewhere then along the line
When everything was going fine
The newly freed hankered for more
And so they made a new glass floor.
They made the men upon it stand
While together chicks did band
And told the men “call us lovely and dear
“And say we’re perfect, BUT BE SINCERE!”
And so the men did as they were tasked
And said the things the women asked,
But alas, that wasn’t good enough.
And so was born the third-wave stuff.
And now the men stand on a cracked glass floor.
One misstep and they’ll step no more.
This poem’s moral must be stressed:
Women are still the ones oppressed.
