WHEN my wife insisted on buying an electric car I said ‘yes’. Not because I’m an emasculated cuck, though. Because bothering to argue with a woman is what a Beta would do.
However, as soon as the car arrived I knew it was homosexual, like all electric cars. It was a Tesla, all sleek and shiny, and with a badge on the front that looked a bit like a penis and testicles, if you’re minded to look at it like that, which obviously I’m not.
My wife said we couldn’t take it back and I wasn’t going to change anything by complaining and yelling. And after I’d shouted at it numerous times in the garage to stop being so gay, I realised she was right.
But luckily the world changed so I didn’t have to. Elon Musk, a man I had previously dismissed as a lefty, nerdy soyboy, suddenly emerged as a hero. He called that bloke who saved those kids trapped in a cave ‘pedo guy’. Which obviously he was, like anyone who shows an interest in children.
He did lots of other great stuff too, like ruining Twitter for libtards and scientifically discovering the woke mind virus. He even got Donald Trump back into power, where ageing white men deserve to be. Admittedly I wasn’t sure about the Nazi salute, as I spend my weekends with a re-enactment group recreating the Battle of Dunkirk, but no doubt it was all a misunderstanding. I’m certainly going to explain it away as such.
Anyway, simply by me hero-worshipping Musk and his manly japes like brandishing a chainsaw onstage while talking about cuts, my car has magically been cured of its gayness. Now it is no longer a symbol of Net Zero effeminate liberals, but of red-pilled Sigma males. Like me.
My wife says being completely obsessed with another man is actually much gayer than just accepting that electric vehicles are better for the environment. But what does she know? She’s a woman, and they don’t understand cars. Now, who can tell me how to use this computer thingy on the dashboard?
