Your four-year-old daughter has been browsing tumblr a great deal lately and it’s beginning to make you nervous.
One day, she comes to you holding her lambchop ballerina doll. “I have a question for you, patriarch,” she says coldly.
“Yes, dear?” you ask oppressively while flexing your biceps in an attempt to intimidate her.
“Am I to believe this is the way you wish me to see myself?”
“What’s that, you dumb female?” you say, not even looking your own daughter in the face.
“This doll. I can only assume that because you bought it for me you wish to reinforce the binary gender stereotypes inherent in our system, and that you wish me to be a sheepish slave to the patriarchy as you believe it will serve your own penile interests. Am I right, shitlord?”
You wake up in a cold sweat. Your Ronald Reagan alarm clock is going off, repeatedly reading you the 2nd Amendment in an even, steady tone. You tap Ronnie on the top of the head and he becomes silent.
You get out of bed and change out of your Old Glory pajamas, then head to the kitchen for breakfast. You salute your singing American bald eagle novelty wall decoration as you approach, and as you pass it begins to sing the Star Spangled Banner and you cry a single, manly tear.
You dry your eyes as you enter the kitchen, because your wife and daughter don’t need to see shit like that – you’re the man of the house, not the woman of the house! LOLJ! (Love Our Lord Jesus)
Your wife has breakfast ready on the table. She doesn’t ask you about your day because it’s none of her business. You kiss your daughter gently on the cheek and she tells you she loves you, and can’t wait to marry a man just like you and make a family for him and that she’ll never aspire to do anything else.
God Bless America.
You awaken in a hot sweat.
You crawl out of bed naked, eat what's left of last night's Taco Bell, and go back to playing video games all day, as you do every day.
What a nightmare.