Yeah, I don’t know. I think this is a western AU where Grantaire meets Enjolras after being thrown out of a bar window. At least that’s what it looks like.
In case people don't realize the full extent of what's going on, we are under siege in Minnesota. I live in an affluent, majority white suburb of Minneapolis, and ICE is all over the place terrorizing people. They showed up at the library, kitted out in their Temu tactical gear, and stormed it.
The library. Please let that sink in.
They've pulled weapons on legal observers and physically attacked them. They're threatening teenagers and children with death. One woman told a story at my, again, affluent, majority white suburban town's city council meeting this week of being shoved from behind so hard that she fell down by an ICE agent, who then said to her, "Stop touching me." A man, in tears and begging for our city government to do something to help our neighbors, described having a baton pulled on him. They're luring people out of their workplaces with lies about "hitting someone's car in the parking lot" and then abducting them. Citizens and legal residents are being detained. People are being racially profiled and snatched. A teenager (a US citizen) working at Target got dragged out and shoved in a car, then dumped a mile away in a Wal-mart parking lot, beaten up and crying. And all of this is after they murdered Renee Good.
I don't emphasize the demographics of my particular suburb to say "but this shouldn't be happening here, we have money!" but to illustrate that the Trump administration has declared war on a US state. Even if you stick your head in the sand because you're white and won't be directly targeted, ICE is running traffic lights, speeding, tearing the wrong way on one way streets, and causing nasty accidents because they think they're above the law. They think it doesn't matter who they hurt or kill, because they're being told straight from the top that they can do whatever they want to whoever they want.
We are all under attack, and this is coming to a city near you if we don't stand up to it. Please stand with Minnesota, as well as LA, Portland, Chicago, and every other place DHS has sent their COD cosplay gestapo. I don't know what that looks like for you but please, please, don't ignore this.
I live in Minneapolis. OP is not being dramatic. We will continue this fight, but please everything you can to stand with us because nobody in this country is safe if they get away with these crimes against humanity.
The other day, my friend said: “don’t bully the twink!” And although it was not directed at me, I really took it to heart. So I threw the twinks I bully a little apology party.
“LOOK SHARP, BUTTHEADS!” I bellowed. “IT’S WOMAN TIME!”
On Thursday, November 6, the New York Times published an op-ed video criticizing the effects of feminism on institutions and warning of the dangers of “toxic femininity.” It briefly ran with the title “Did Women Ruin the Workplace?”
I can answer that question: yes. Specifically, me—I’m the woman who ruined the workplace. And, frankly, I had a blast.
From the moment that I, a woman, entered the workplace, it was irrevocably changed. And not for the better.
On my first day, I arrived with a hopeful heart, excited to serve our clients and become a member of the team. “LOOK SHARP, BUTTHEADS!” I bellowed. “IT’S WOMAN TIME!” Things didn’t improve when I insisted on being called the Cap’n.
Much of how I ruined the workplace has to do with the accommodations that I, as a woman, require. Because of me, male employees are no longer allowed to make lewd jokes, hold men-only work gatherings, or type with their penises. Yes, this has ruined the workplace, although it has also drastically reduced typos.
I also insisted that our company upgrade to more woman-friendly lighting. Specifically, with the fixtures that I made from feminine-hygiene products. There’s been a lot of buzz about our beautiful new tampondelabra.
I try to make ruining the workplace a daily practice. Like this morning, when I practiced “being a daredevil” and crashed my sedan into our reception area. Yes, Beth may never walk without a limp, but she’ll understand. She’s a woman.
Plus, this now gives me the opportunity to remodel our entryway into a giant, exquisitely detailed vulva. Boom—workplace ruined.
While I am having the time of my goddam life ruining the workplace, I’m honestly just building upon the innate differences between men and women. Argue all you want, but men are simply stronger and more assertive. Women are sensitive, empathetic, and good at filling your car with bees. And those differences are what compel me to keep ruining the workplace, day after day, headbutt after headbutt.
For example, as a result of my natural, ladylike passivity, some of my attempts to ruin the workplace have gone unnoticed for weeks. Such as how I smeared suet on your windowsills, in an attempt to recruit and train more pigeons to do my womanly bidding (to shit on your windowsills).
Other ways that I ruined the workplace hit you in the face right when you walk in. Like the bucket of rocks I installed that hits you in the face right when you walk in.
Of course, as with any stereotype, there are exceptions. Many would agree that women are more submissive (“worriers,” not “warriors”) and are therefore averse to healthy workplace conflict. Not me—I resolve all differences by bludgeoning my colleagues with a stapler.
Some of the ways I’ve ruined the workplace are just part of a larger demographic shift. Institutions like mine that were once majority male are now majority female. Which means that I’m not the only one who’s ruined the workplace by taking paid family leave, or, as I like to call it, Relax-2-Da-Max Pajama-Mama Babycation, Feat. Margs and Pedicures.
That particular incident also led me to ruin our small conference room by turning it into a nursing room. And our spare fridge into a fridge for breast milk, and suet.
By now, my colleagues have grown accustomed to my gleeful ruination of the workplace. But there have been complaints. Oh, I’ve heard the whispers: “Ugh, does she have to microwave fish?” Yes, Tim, I have to microwave my fish, the one I pulled from the Gowanus Canal. It needs to be preheated before I tuck it above the ceiling tiles.
I will say, I have not ruined the workplace with any of my lunches. I never bring one. Because yours are always there.
Even if I wanted to push back, there’s no doubt that I’m the woman who ruined the workplace. I’ll readily admit that I’m the one who convinced the head of our company to use Microsoft Teams.
Listen, as the self-appointed workplace-ruinin’ girly girl, I’m well aware that women are famous for apologizing. I’m no different. That’s why, every quarter hour, I blast my Apology Airhorn. But I just can’t say I’m sorry for ruining the workplace. To do so would imply remorse. And how can I be remorseful for behavior that is inherent to womanhood? For traits given to womankind by our Creator, along with a penchant for miniature vases and novels in which faerie kings have rough sex with you?
For goodness’ sake, should the soaring eagle apologize for its flight? Should a horse apologize for doing horse stuff?
But, for now, since you took the liberty of calling me out in the press, sure. I’ll hold off on ruining the workplace any further. Besides, I should really spend more time ruining video games and the military.
theartofmadeline
annaxmalina
titsay
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