I bow to you, Psychic Warrior Women

Talking women’s rights is never a good thing in college.

Even if you’re entirely sympathetic to the feminist movement, bringing it up at a party is likely to alienate everyone there.

This doesn’t matter; it always comes up at parties.

I’ve gotten a skewed sense of gender relations at IU through a combination of talking to feminist friends and existing in an area dominated by men.

I’m a telecommunications major, which has a worse girl-to-guy ratio than Comic-Con. From my perfectly gender-neutral eyes, it’s these brave women — those content in a world of sweaty AV man-nerds — that seem to actually have an advantage. Being a white geek from America with an interest in entertainment isn’t exactly something that makes you stand out when applying for jobs.

I’m also an aspiring comedian, another man-world. All I keep seeing is a gender vacuum where women can jump in. Lisa Lampanelli can’t be the pinnacle of female stand-up, can she?

I just can’t tell if these absences exist because of a lack of interest or because there’s an invisible ceiling I can’t see because I have a penis.

I’ve also been severely mentally scarred by my love life — perhaps a contributing factor to my views. I tell girls this all the time: You have the power to sway men and cause wars.

If I were to strip naked in the middle of class, the building would lock down, SWAT would be called and someone would likely attack me to save the other students. If a woman were to do the same, people would stand and applaud in ovation. The IDS would report the next day with a headline, “Thing of wonder happened!”  This bothers me.

Young ladies, you can make a 13-year-old boy rob a bank for you. Just say, “I’ll show you a single breast as payment,” and they will immediately respond, “Where are the guns and escape vehicle?”

So my female graduates look to make, on average, $0.80 for every dollar I make. I will likely be unable to pay my college loans anyway, so that doesn’t matter to me. I’d rather have psychic powers and be able to bend an entire gender to my will with a little flirting.

My only salvation is the elder years. Only then, when my sex drive is dead and my dreams have been entirely crushed, may I truly sit back and enjoy the advantages that being a man supposedly gives me.

Maybe I’ll get more tapioca pudding in the nursing home because of them.