By M. M.
Political correctness is such a pervasive ideology that everyone must deal with it during the course of his undergraduate education; I went one step further and shelled out $40,000 to spend an additional two years in one of its bastions. My purpose was to obtain my Masters of Fine Arts degree. Unfortunately, I chose to pursue this degree through a particularly flakey New England university’s graduate program, the head of which, it bears mentioning, was a self-described, practicing witch who once got an abortion and bragged about it on YouTube. During my time there as a closet conservative, I learned the following social and spiritual beliefs which the fringe left espouses when insulated from wrong-thinking people:
The key to enlightenment is to internalize a cryptic caste system whereby the further removed an individual is from white, heterosexual, Christian manhood, the higher on the social and spiritual totem pole he—I’m sorry, she—resides. Once this is accomplished, many truths which seemed fantastical begin to make sense.
Women have a supernatural kinship with the moon. I found this out when the program head read her poem recounting the circumstances of her first period. She had been standing on the porch with her family staring at the night sky when the image of the moon took hold of her and she began to freely menstruate. Think that scene in The Exorcist where Reagan crashes her mother’s cocktail party, tells the attending astronaut “You’re going to die up there!”, then urinates herself.
The skin of an Inuit has cleansing properties. This became apparent to me when the program head asked an Inuit student to wear a stone necklace she wanted “cleansed” against her skin for 24 hours, then threw a public fit when she “caught” the student without the necklace later in the day. The student explained to us that she had been afraid to wear the necklace because she “didn’t know what it contained.” Dark forces, presumably.
Following the non-politically motivated shooting of a politician in a southwestern state, it is for some reason necessary to exorcise the specter of right-wing fanaticism by publicly burning a newspaper photograph of the shooter, particularly if one is the program head of a New England university with no connection to the event.
Racism can cause a minority man to cheat on his wife by performing oral sex on other men; fortunately, that man can become a cultural hero by relating his infidelity and his rationalization for it. I was taught this by a Japanese-American professor’s public description about the way in which the daily oppression of Asian-Americans (as evidenced by their significantly higher than average income levels) compelled him to act out his subordinate role through a string of submissive, homosexual encounters, and the many allusions to his bravery from students and staff which followed.
Supreme Court rulings prohibiting religious expression at publicly funded university events don’t apply to the chanted refrains of a Wiccan “invocatory” poem praising the earth, and students therefore have no right to complain about their forced participation.
When we are sick, we are naturally attracted to plants that heal us. This was divulged during a presentation given by a visiting author promoting her book on the topic.
When faced with a major life decision, the best course of action is to walk into the woods with your eyes closed until you “feel compelled to stop,” spin clockwise three times, then open them. The first thing you focus on will be your “omen.” I learned this during a presentation on “omen gathering,” after which students were told to try the method out in the woods behind the seminar meetinghouse. Some of us didn’t “feel compelled to stop” until we had reached the dorms.
Finally, pointing out the hypocrisy of male-bashing while enjoying all the modern amenities which men have invented, such as automobiles, contraception, vaccines, etc… to a brittle, middle-aged feminist over breakfast will invite derogatory comparisons to her “enlightened” husband. Informing said feminist that her husband “is a pussy,” will subject you to both a strident lecture on the backwardness of using a female sex organ as a derogatory label and being called an asshole. Explaining, in response, that the asshole is a male sex organ, and that if the feminist has any doubt about this she can always ask her husband since it “sounds like he enjoys taking it up the ass,” will make you a pariah in your program for the rest of the semester. You will also be branded a homophobe, even if you are openly gay.
Such were the fruits of my graduate education.
