Eternal peace in the her-world

Each all-male cheerleading team–filled with soft, supportive, apologetic beta-males–held several signs with polite, gender-neutral, undemanding slogans to encourage their team of beautifully horse-faced, ass-less, steroid-flooded, scowling, sterile amazonians playing in the WNFL championship game–the Sassy Bowl.

All was finally right with the her-world: other than during professional sports, woxen never competed with each other anymore–since competition between and among woxen was only ever a social construct of the patriarchy, which was destroyed in the great matriarchal revolution. Instead, all woxen now simply agreed that every woxan was the prettiest woxan in the room. And prettiness didn’t matter anymore anyway–so all woxen agreed that every woxan among them was the most talented, irreverent, and sheroically man-hating.

The most progressive aspect of the woxan-led utopia was the fact that all the leaders were not only woxen–they all were also transgender.

Years back, mansplaining was finally ended, after “the great proof that men do not deserve a voice;” when, at the first session of she-congress, one of the last speaking men sexistly shouted, “These leaders are all just men in wigs, securing their own nation-wide privatized harems by exterminating their male competitors!”

After that sexist, transphobic, baseless outburst, she-congress passed a law requiring the circumcision of all males’ voice-boxes upon birth.

For a while, all was right in the her-world.

But soon, the inherent misogyny of males emerged, when even the voiceless men found a way to inflict their male privilege upon woxen: by silently showing their middle fingers while sticking out their tongues.

All such criminals were castrated, machine-raped, and killed–and a second law was passed, which had three points:

(1) Every male, upon birth, is to have his tongue cut off, and mouth permanently sewed shut;

(2) Every male, upon birth, is to have all his fingers amputated, except the index and thumb;

(3) Every male, from birth to death, is required to point at whatever woxan he sees, then give her a thumbs-up about whatever she is doing.

After that, finally, there was eternal peace.

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