>Go on a date with a girl.
>Take her to a nice restaurant.
>She orders a shrimp cocktail and several drinks.
>Ask for the check.
>The waiter places the check in front of me,
>Not in front of her, not in the middle of the table.
>Look of horror comes across the girl's face.
>I reach for the check and my credit card inside.
>She begins to tremble.
>Tears well up in her eyes.
>I can tell she is paralyzed by fear at the oppression she is experiencing.
>I chauvinistically place the check with my credit card on the table in front of me, daring her to do something about it.
>The power of my oppression of this women surges through my body as I lean back in my seat and stare >directly at her.
>She is shaking with fright, the oppression strangling her voice away.
>The waiter returns to take the check away.
>All is lost to her now.
>Men at other tables begin to stand up and clap.
>Women all over the restaurant begin to shriek and cry.
>I ask my date, "Did you enjoy your dinner?".
>"Y-yes... thank you", she says behind a mask of tears.
>I lean forward, a devious, patriarchal smile spreading across my face.
>And I tell her, "It was my privilege."
A massive biker pulls you near and whispers un your ear