Justin Whitington, former US Marine Corps Special Forces Tier-one operator and a politically incorrect, devoted non-denominational Protestant Christian, approached the registrar’s office of Alinsky College of Liberal Arts. He’d been dreading this moment for months now. Although he was a highly decorated combat veteran with many missions under his belt, he had been unjustly driven out of the nation’s top elite joint special operations unit simply because he once referred to the enemy as “Islamic terrorists” within earshot of the newly appointed PC Officer. Luckily, his illustrious combat record enabled him to avoid getting the dishonorable discharge that PC officer Gerald “Commissar” Weinberg had pushed for so militantly. But discharge aside, Whitington had to enter the job market, and while it was clearly booming under a Republican controlled White House and Congress, getting a job with a decent salary to support a mortgage and 2.5 children still required higher education. After all, those low-paying starting jobs were just for teenagers who wanted to develop their work ethic and make some extra pocket money to supplement their allowance. Raising the minimum wage for those jobs would lead to unemployment!
Alinsky College hadn’t been his first pick. Not by a long shot. But he didn’t have time to waste applying to Ivy League schools and besides, he heard they had fairly decent STEM programs. Naturally, STEM fields are the only useful degrees one should ever get; Justin knew this well. Thus he decided to get into mechanical engineering so he could maybe one day realize his dream of designing an assault rifle that can readily fire 5.56x45mm M855 NATO, Soviet-bloc 7.62x39mm, and 7.62x51mm NATO with the flick of a switch. But that was a long way ahead. First, Justin had to get through the hardest part- dealing with the university staff.
As he approached the registrar’s desk he saw the student clerk looked precisely as he assumed she would. Her hair was bright blue, she had several piercings, and she had thick-rimmed hipster glasses. Her t-shirt read “I (HEART) ABORTIONS” on it, and around her neck hung a necklace with a pentagram on it instead of a cross. Clearly a worshiper of the Earth Mother Goddess or some pagan mumbo jumbo like that, Justin thought. Before he approached to introduce himself, he was already navigating the ideological minefield of the conversation he’d been dreading all week.
He was sure that upon introducing himself in his deep, manly voice, she would take one look at his traditionally masculine, very heterosexual appearance and deem him to be toxic cis-het white male patriarchy scum. In any other situation, he’d easily either defeat his detractors with violence if they were male, with facts, logic, and debate if they were hysterical females (and they always are, right?). But this obviously gender-confused radical was the gatekeeper to the higher education Justin needed, so he had no choice but to be as polite and diplomatic as he could.
“Good morning, ma’am,” Justin began.
“Ma’am?!” the clerk replied with a flash of white-hot hatred in her eyes. “Did you just…assume my gender, you toxic masculine white cis-het male scum? You don’t even know my pronouns!”
Justin couldn’t believe it- it was going exactly as he predicted. All those memes he read on Facebook about these rabid liberal Marxist Social Justice Warriors were totally right! Fox News was right too! These SJW snowflakes were so entrenched in the higher education system that you couldn’t even to the most mundane administrative task without dealing with them! What a terrible turn of events for our Republic! The Founding Fathers must be turning in their graves. Justin thought that; he thought that the Founding Fathers had to have been turning in their graves. Because they would be upset.
“Look I’m really sorry, I just made that assumption because you look like the female side of the two genders and…” Justin tried to explain but the very unfeminine “woman” behind the counter wasn’t having any of it.
“Excuse me, but there aren’t only two genders. There are at least 74 genders! Our gender scientists feel that is the truth, and all truths are equally valid according to post-modernist Cultural Marxism!”
But that’s wrong! Justin thought. Facts don’t care about people’s feelings, and Cultural Marxism led to the deaths of 1 billion people in the 20th century. If people had cared more about facts and not feelings, maybe Josef Stalin and Hitler, who was a socialist because he was head of the National Socialist party, wouldn’t have existed. But once you start allowing political correctness, there’s no telling how many innocent people could be killed.
Justin was going to say some words to that effect but then he held his tongue. He knew this was just another obstacle he had to get over to achieve his goal of getting a higher education. He silently prayed to Jesus Christ for wisdom and guidance and then spoke again.
“I recognize whatever gender identity you may have as totally valid and real, I just want to sign up for courses so I can get my engineering degree,” he said, calmly and serenely.
The clerk fumed at him a little more, but then sighed and began typing on her computer.
“Name?” she asked, her bitterness still evident in her tone.
“Justin Whitington,” he answered.
Clearly this feminist SJW had never dealt with someone who wouldn’t play her game. Her fingers moved rapidly about the keyboard and-
Suddenly the glass doors behind Justin burst open and there stood four black clad, masked “men” who were very skinny and spindly and effeminate yet somehow menacing at the same time. They were armed with chains, bike locks, and protest signs that said “ISLAMIC STATE REFUGEES DESERVE ASYLUM AND WELFARE!” One of them, the most limp-wristed and spindly of the group, pointed at Justin.
“There’s the toxic masculine fascist!” he exclaimed.
“Fascist!” the rest screamed in unison.
“Nazi!” the obvious ringleader of the group screamed, his effeminate voice cracking from the strain.
“Excuse me,” gentlemen, Justin began. “But did you know the term Nazi comes from National Socialist German Workers Party, meaning they were socialists and left-wing? And I, of course, am not a socialist because I believe in liberty and small government! Clearly you are mistaken.”
The leader seemed a bit confused. Obviously he was another SJW who never studied history and valued feelings over facts.
“Gentlemen?” the skinny ringleader replied. “Did you just assume our genders?”
Great, here we go again, Justin thought. But this time it was different. The ringleader began swinging his bike lock chain and the other masked thugs fanned out. Justin had been in enough bar fights to know what was coming. He didn’t know why these spindly little soy-boys thought they’d stand a chance against him, seeing as how he’d taken out tough tattooed MS-13 gangmembers by the dozen with nothing more than his bare fists, but who ever accused Cultural Marxist SJWs of having common sense, right?
“I see where this is going,” Justin said. “And I’ve got to warn you about one thing.”
“Oh yeah, fascist cis-het scum? What’s that?”
“There’s no safe space from me, punk!”
To be continued?!