The Chromosome Counter
Once again he applies murderous fillings to his ding-dongs as his antagonists in an old feud fail and fall—one after the next.
Life is gentle waxing suspense to him, but ultimately an infusion of toasted morning treats wins the day, and he’s ready to go, go, go.
Does this read like a report from an official legation after a tawdry jet-set romp? It ain’t.
He’s an up-and-coming caudillo quoting amphibians and sexing tadpoles outside of his posted office hours: this one’s female, this one’s male… (you get the drift).
This next part is tedious so we’ll skip it.
Then the camper vans arrive and stretchers bearing strumpets and gigolos make an endless procession out of the fire and into the west wing of his villa—a trifle thing overlooking the eastern expanse of the Laptev Sea. (Nothing really to see here, but his all the same.)
Initially, the villa oozes with entitlement and extra Y chromosomes—this provide him a silo of serenity, but he’s often homicidal. Proof is in the outlandish taxidermy room and festooned along on numerous walls in his villa.
Outside his wing, however, he chomps on an effusion of waning ploys. Ultimately, it takes the cruelty of his schoolteachers—“how can you have any pudding if you don’t eat your meat?”—to snap him out of the strongman trance.
It comes to him in an instant—I’ll annex everything I see. Every whim, every ill-fitting idea that suits me, I’ll bring to fruition. Because I am. Because I exist, I get to have everything I imagine realized. If I think it is—it IS.
I’m just that special. That extra Y guy! Ain’t it great to be me? Ain’t life grand?
(and the rest of us, we all, swoon … ain’t life grand?)
What I’m Reading:
“Cultures of domination attack self-esteem, replacing it with a notion that we derive our sense of being from dominion over another. Patriarchal masculinity teaches men that their sense of self and identity, their reason for being, resides in their capacity to dominate others.”
— bell hooks / Feminism Is for Everybody: Passionate Politics