(Alternate title: “How Satire Is Done”)
In the course of human history, one can scarcely doubt the true driving force behind every one of humankind’s greatest achievements, be they in art, music, literature, or science. Though some misguided elitists may argue fiercely to the contrary, this force is not our species’ natural curiosity, nor is it our persistent and hopeful search for meaning in an often chaotic and unjust world. This force is not even ambition, or love, or the compassion that surely resides somewhere in even the blackest human soul.
No, the force that drives people worldwide to reach greater and greater heights as a civilization is none of these things, but is rather: men’s boners.
My dear friends! Stay with me here! This is why obesity is such a worldwide crisis, one that needs trumpeting from the front pages of every news outlet at least on a weekly basis. Indeed, daily reminders of the consequences of fatness would be appropriate as we approach this dangerous tipping point, from which no boner returns. Our greatest achievements must be thrust forcibly into a planet willing and ready to be impregnated with men’s brilliance, and the momentum by which this thrusting occurs relies upon the swelling of the masculine organ for its fortitude and clout. The growing incidence of visible fat women, specifically fat women daring to aspire to the lofty heights of sexual agency, is a terrible imposition upon man’s eager inflammation. To put it simply, fat women are making the all-important weens that rule the world into soft, flaccid appendages, of no use for thrusting anything anywhere.
When described in such terms, the frustration, resentment, and even violent rages of heterosexual men railing against the forced witnessing of women’s bodies that fail to give them hard-ons becomes a perfectly understandable and even sympathetic response to a world that has failed to identify how deeply (even irreparably, as some things can never be unseen) it has damaged them. We are, after all, describing the single most sensitive and vital organ in a man’s body, from which fully nine-tenths of their motivation to do anything in life is derived.
Clearly, these are young men suffering from a heartbreaking deficiency of boners.
The sight of fat women is a heavy cross said men must bear every moment they step out into the public spaces where people congregate, be they city streets or shopping malls or public transportation or the dentist’s office. Their eyes burning as though filled with a raging fire, their inability to control their speech — the inescapable, uncontrollable need to instruct the offending woman on the pain she is selfishly causing them — this is hardly their fault! They must say something, in the hope that their words will drive the fat woman back into the shadows and thereby cause the unthinkable torture being imposed upon their enfeebled weens to finally relent. They cannot be responsible for the things they say and do while in such agony. We cannot rightly blame them when it is men, and the relative rigidity of their supremely important peckers, who are being attacked here, attacked by fat women who dare to allow themselves to be seen.
Of course they are upset! They are suffering, and we have been content to let them agonize, even going so far as to assert that all people, and all bodies, deserve respect and dignity, and that homogenized and impossible beauty standards are oppressive and hurtful to people of all genders. How could we be so foolish as to overlook the profound effects these erroneous and insulting ideas would have on our society? The weens are the brutalized victims of a series of vicious crimes, without recognition from either the federal government nor law enforcement agencies. How long can we allow this injustice to continue?
Besides the anguish our persistent fatness imposes on individuals, one might argue that by failing to provide boners to men, fat women are also holding back the rapid rise of a most glorious civilization. It is the fault of these uncaring, irresponsible fat women that we continue to hobble along without jet-powered flying cars and food pills and television that we watch inside our heads. Our lack of a suitable and clean alternative to fossil fuels? Cancer, poverty, world hunger? Multiple seasons of Two and a Half Men? All the exclusive responsibility of boner-denying fat women. Surely, if there were more hard penises, all of these debilitating social problems would have been long ago solved, and we would all be reaping the benefits of a stiff-pricked world without disease, poverty, prejudice, or unfunny TV.
The tragic suffering of the weens shall be silenced no more. This is a call to action, to all the fat women, to take responsibility for the terrible burden we have callously and even unwittingly become. Our society is fruitlessly straining against the ever-tightening bonds of penis-softness and we must make amends for the damage we have caused. We can do this by rapidly becoming “hot” and fuckable not according to our own standards, but to the standards of the men — and, of course, of their cocks — whose greatness we have so bridled. It is our responsibility, as women, to stiffen up those johnsons again, and stiffen we must, no matter what it takes, be it misery-inducing diets, obsessive exercise, or dangerous surgeries to permanently sicken our healthy digestive tracts. It is what we were born for. This is our task, our charge, our province, as women: to indirectly empower the genius of men by making their penises hard.
If you can’t do it for yourselves, please, do it for the boners.
Originally posted on fatshionista.com; comments are over there.
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