We’ve all been there.
The undeniable shame of being “made” as a conservative. Sitting in an interview and the afro-chinese transmasculine gentleperson…is quietly scrolling through their phone and suddenly looks questioningly and your heart drops.
You know they saw it.
And they ask, “Why are your pronouns not in your Twitter bio? Do you expect anyone here will be able to address you correctly without inciting violence upon you or me for allowing you to be a part of an organization that respects people properly?”
Not only did you not get the job to file paperwork at this pet insurance company, you’ve been outed and defined as ignorant in that person’s ever more agitated circle...or square…triangle………polygon.
You’ve been hit by, you’ve been struck by, your own freaking rational thought. Fool!
You knew you should have just kept with the ungrammatical trend even when you were always male and you wear a suit and have a beard and are married to a human woman with the baby thing and the baby food things. Imprudently thinking people would correctly assume your gender. And how much worse it gets. Pronouns are only a small piece of the puzzle you are massively unprepared to solve. The pieces are scattered across the table and half of them are upside down.
Ugh you really are hopeless to survive this hellscape of progressivism.
Lucky for you, AC is here to guide you down the path of credible subservience while still remembering who you are inside. The duality of man must now become that of an ethereal conservative soul, and a corporal form of liberalism. Try not to cry.
Yes, we start at the beginning. This isn’t some horse pucky countdown to the top tip to look like a jackass. First things first, your Twitter feed is wrong. All wrong! Your amateurish belief that you think following people ISN’T a tacit endorsement of those accounts’ political views will only lead you to twitterical pain and suffering. Your profile is only permitted to follow the socially acceptable. NPR, MSNBC and its hosts, and anyone Anderson Cooper (currently of CNN, formerly of the CIA) follows.
If questioned, your automatic excuse is baked in; “The ‘Coop’ follows them.”
No. You cannot follow alt-right extremist accounts like Ben Shapiro or Glenn Greenwald and claim irony as the cause. Get your head in the game, this is war and if you want to win the war that is Twitter, you need a second Twitter account. A username somewhere between “user4686445462” and “SoybeanCommander5000” should work.
There AND ONLY THERE are you free to do as you wish, but be cautioned…you can’t reference yourself, your experience, or your CV history.
YOU DON’T WANT YOUR CHRISTIAN NAME TIED TO THIS SHAMEPIT. Remember, duality.
You must become two people.
Run one account on the app and one in a browser to avoid cross-posting and unraveling the tapestry of lies you’ve steadfastly sat at the loom to weave. And that doesn’t mean you can ignore your “public” account activity. You have to like. You have to follow. You have to quote tweet with an unforced “hmm, something here” on the latest Joy Reid race bait.
You. Have. To. Like. Jen. Psaki. Tweets.
That isn’t you…but you must create the first horcrux with your public self being the first sacrifice.
Then delete your Facebook and Instagram. Those are dead now. If you’re over 30 you shouldn’t have a Snapchat or TikTok. You’re not fooling anyone.
Your casual appearance sings a song to all in your vicinity. And that beautiful aria is one of masculinity and freedom. Your button down gingham oxford with sleeves lovingly folded to your mid forearm. Your non-cargo, non-pleated shorts with a moderate eight inch inseam.
Your boat shoes, man. Those gots to go.
Dangit you’re a man and we’re proud of you. But by Zeus, “they” aren’t. The barista on your daily routine sees you as nothing but purely the enemy.
You know whom I'm talking about - She/They/Xe is 28, highly educated, highly communist.
The black apron a comical guise, not concealing the black overalls underneath covered in band patches and buttons. Her name tag reads something unironic like “Karl-a” and the practical bulletproofing from metal piercings covering her face only highlight the half shaved head and shockingly blue horn-rimmed glasses you wonder if she actually needs. But then you remember she’s a communist so obviously, she needs better glasses.
Your appearance strikes disgust and rage in her soul and you’re only one “thank you ma’am” away from a snot filled loogie under the caramel drizzle in your macchiato. “I bet you take your golden retriever to the park and don’t pick up after it” isn’t what you told her your name was, but it’s what she wrote on the cup and loudly announced to the other barely employed patrons.
First you were grabbing coffee on the way to the cigar shop, now you’re behind enemy lines and you just know someone has hepatitis and a shockingly accurate aim with their urinating biology.
You can’t be the other Brooks Brother outside of work.
You can’t be on the dock with Shep in head-to-toe Vineyard Vines (circa 2010, pre-Target). On your days off, these beloved comforts are a liability. There’s two things you need to know: the hiking community welcomes your money and no one ever went wrong with solid, muted colors.
If it’s above 35 degrees and you left the house without wearing Chacos, you have failed.
They’re expensive, some of them are comfortable, they kind of fit your vibe. And they immediately disarm the lefties. “He/They must care about the environment…he/they wants to feel the climate change happening with us…and our success in fighting back!” You can even keep the rest of your summer stroll outfit, but leave the boaties at home, rock the Chac.
And that other gem? Solid, muted colors.
You will not be attacked in a plain black or gray t-shirt, jeans, and those Chacos. If a concert or library trip is an unavoidable vexation, you may consider stepping it up with a pair of Dickies coveralls or DIYing black jeans into capris (don’t throw up, don’t throw up) and a workboot. Red Wings are still made in America and they look just fine with your real clothes. You can still be trad Chad.
Yup we’re still at the coffee shop. Your order to the barista can’t be what your dad drank. Black, decaf, medium. Eliminate these simple yet economical words from your java-cabulary.
If your coffee order has less than six words and one bonus word after they’ve written everything down, then you should be making your own coffee at home. “Venti. Quad. Nonfat. Caramel. Macchiato. Extra. Foam. No. Whip.”
Your coffee order should be so overly complex that it could qualify as gender-queer.
Yes this has added $4 to your $3.25 worth of espresso but you have dispelled any fears of a *gasp* Republican being in the presence of sacred beans. And harkening back to our thread of duality; it’s still coffee. You’re still benefiting from international trade and the free market system. You’re still winning. America…is still winning.
Canine selection is a crucial step in transforming one's image from “preppy” to “pronoun obsessed” while retaining core values.
Your barista berated you with something about a golden retriever. The Cardinal Sin of Traditionalism. Anything that screams “American Family Values” must be immediately removed from the equation. This spells “no” for any type of retriever, spaniel, hound, and nearly any sporting breed.
The same for overbred pups. You really don’t want to walk through a DC park with a French Bulldog, English Bulldog, etc. There are some doggos which remaining historically revered but not publicly shamed: an Eastern European (preferably Czech) GSD, the American lines are too overbred for conformation and are hideously malformed, or a Doberman but don’t you dare clip those ears or dock that tail!
Acceptable dogs to today’s thinking socialist are, without question, 1. A rescue - You can’t buy love from a store that sells dogs….only one that takes things people used to love and don’t anymore and sells it again, and 2. NOT A GOLDEN RETRIEVER.
You do get bonus points if said dog is missing a limb, or gay.
And what about those core values mentioned at the start of this item? Core values? Well it’s the most coreiest and valuey of core values: You’ve got a dog, not a bloody cat. America!
Proceeding from the scalp, jawline, cheek, and upper lip of every red-blooded man in this melting pot we call these United States should be the strong presence of thick, life giving follicles or a complete absence of them.
The enemies lurking at every media outlet and social justice driven political action committee on the Hill will call you Nazi scum at the drop of a hat if you even think that wearing your hair like Cillian Murphy in Peaky Blinders.
Even if literally every man from 1910-1935 wore their hair like that. But thankfully, in the top-of-head department, this is the only rule: “No Hitler Youth haircuts.” Though the Bible holds certain views on men’s hair (1 Corinthians 11:14)…I hope you’ve heard of it.
The beard however…your author implores you to retain this, the final shred of male dignity. A voluptuous, well maintained beard is the same crown to a man’s face that flowing locks are to a woman (1 Corinthians 11:15).
But thou art cautioned! A patchy beard. A stringy beard. Worst of all, a neckbeard.
These are displeasing in the sight of God and man. Get thee to the barber or make your peace with razor prices. If you can’t grow it, don’t show it.
Even the libs will feel owned without knowing why when they see you, a man, in glory.
Downtime activities are encouraged, but must be documented in some manner that ensures that your hike through the state park was not cataclysmic to the environment yet was insufferably fulfilling to your soul or whatever it is that those insane Marxists have.
You must selfie. You must elaborate.
You must seek to humiliate those who would spend their time volunteering with their church or cultivating healthy relationships or worse…those who would become capitalist overlords forcing slaves to manufacture goods which were then purchased at irresponsibly low prices.
In reality, all outdoor activities are largely acceptable but at no point are you permitted to engage in said activity without sharing it in the SoMe.
And again, duality.
You like being outside. You want to run and hike and camp and kayak and trail ride. You’re still you. You’re just showing that you aren’t one of “those types of people” that abuse nature, ravaging her with your conservatism.
Music. Such a loaded conceptual matrix of unattainable dreams and emotions. Your whole life you’ve wandered around listening to what you liked, even telling other humans of your love for a certain artist or album. This is wrong. You still are allowed to like the music you like. But if you think for a moment that you’re safe to roll the windows down and blast Kid Rock’s “We The People” while you roll down NE Massachusetts Avenue…you clearly haven’t been paying attention. Your job here is survival. Cancel culture’s ever expanding rules mean musicians are a minefield. Here’s what will be safe for the next several months: Neil Young (if you use Apple or your own actual collection, not Spotfy), The Beatles, Lady Gaga, and any band with a gay male lead. Well…not Boy George..but…
Listen to your metal. Listen to your worship. Listen to Limp Bizkit (if you really, really, really want to). But listen with the windows up, your earbuds in, and don’t sing along.
If anyone asks, you say “Podcast. Pod Save…the Queen…something,” and walk away.
Duality requires knowledge.