These days, you can’t say or do anything without getting canceled. If you say the wrong thing just once, you might lose your friends, your family, or even your job. And still, people on the liberal left continue to say that there’s no such thing as cancel culture. Well, riddle me this, geniuses – if cancel culture isn’t real, then why did I just shatter my hymen trying to land a high-octane kickflip?
I’ve heard all the arguments people make about cancel culture. For instance, some people say that cancel culture isn’t real – it’s just a way to hold people accountable for their actions. Well, if that’s true, then why did I land so hard on my skateboard that I could feel the thin, fleshy tissue at the opening of my vagina expand and contract before disintegrating into nothingness, like the surface of a frozen trampoline getting side-slammed by a big, juicy watermelon?
That’s what I thought, snowflakes!
Oh, I know what you’re going to say next. You think that people who have been ‘canceled’ are usually still able to retain their place in the public eye, right? Well, to those people, let me ask you this: have you ever seen what a bowling ball can do to a crouton? Because that’s what my bitchin’ kickflip did to my hymen, and the whole thing felt like my uterus was sneezing out a fistful of gravel.
What do you want to do, cancel my hymen? Too late, cucks – it doesn’t exist anymore!
Look, I know that this is a hot-button issue. I’ll concede that you left-wing hippies have one thing right: cancel culture rarely has real-world consequences. And in the spirit of full disclosure, I’ll also concede that the explosion of my hymen produced a sonic boom that shattered windows up to 15 miles away and reduced an Alexander Calder mobile to a smoking pile of shrapnel.
I can only defend myself by saying that my views on cancel culture have changed over time, and also that when my hymen shattered, it felt like a grenade went off in my underwear.
You still wanna roll, soy boy? Look, I can talk about cancel culture and the devastating collapse of my hymen all day long. You know how at first there was nothing at all in the universe, and then there was a gravitational singularity of infinite density that erupted in a cacophony of light and matter hurtling through empty space, a dizzyingly hot array of cosmic gas and dust? Well, that was what it felt like when my hymen supernova-ed inside my skate shorts. Also, cancel culture isn’t real.
Jesus Christ. I bet Tony Hawk never has to deal with this shit.
