Somewhere amidst my tenure of calling people cucks and snowflakes I realized that I too was a human being with feelings and emotions. *sad face*

I came to this unsettling epiphany  during a congressional banquet where I was in attendance as an intern and was fortunate enough to dine with a major league roster of Republicans and Democrats.

Sometime during the event I noticed something rather irregular; a sort of burning sensation that I was being “inappropriately analyzed.”

The perpetrator of this heinous assault was none other than Nancy Pelosi, who I had originally thought was a wax statue decoration in the banquet hall because I previously hadn’t noticed any movement of any kind from her.

Had the feminists been right all along? Was there really such thing as “stare rape”?

Before that event I would’ve laughed, called you a cucklord and strutted away in my confident arrogance that you were a special snowflake.

My greatest fear was realized, however, that the feminists were right, stare rape was a real thing and it was happening to me!

With each visual caress from Pelosi I became startlingly aware that I was a victim of stare rape; she was undressing me with her eyes and thinking about ravenous sexual intercourse with me, no doubt.

It was such a tremendous violation that, beyond my reasonable judgement, I took to receding into isolation and engaged in a regiment of coloring book therapy for months.

#metoo