The Uncivil Wars of the Internet

The last of the men cowered behind the penis-shaped rock. Some lay panting with their back against the wall, exchanging haggard stares. The strain from days of defensive blogging and twitter trolling lay heavy on their faces. Braver souls peered around the stone balls into the darkness to see if the feminists were still pursuing them. The sky was still being lit up by the occasional opinion piece but the thunder of tweetiques sounded distant enough to allow for a short respite.

The Standup Comedian took stock of his ammo. Only two sexist jokes left – that wouldn’t hold the onslaught for long. You had to be on elevated ground for them to be of much use, anyway. The last skirmish had depleted much of his supplies – he had been lucky to get out alive, despite using up all his don’t-watch-it-if-you-dont-like-its and learn-how-to-take-a-jokes.

“So, this is it.” The Meninist wheezed.  “The end of men”.

“CISMEN”. A speaker thundered somewhere overhead. The political correctograms were the first thing the Social Justice League installed when they seized power.

“Darn it, won’t be long before they find us now. Will you shut up, please?”

“Fuck you, Ad guy. I’m not going out whispering”.

“Keep talking and the next Op Ed will land right on your head.”

“You really think you will safely make it to Reddit if you keep quiet, do you? Like fuck you will. Who knows if there is anyone left over there now?”

“Let’s give ourselves a fighting chance, shall we?”

The comic spoke up. “Stop bickering. Who are we kidding? There is no escape now. They should have been stopped when they invaded Twitter.”

“It is true. It’s too late now. First they came for the standup comics. Then I did not speak out because I was not a standup comedian.”
“And not because they came for the comics who trivialized violence against women?”.

“Then they came for the advertising industry. Then I did not speak out because I was not an ad guy.”
“Maybe because they came for the ads which compared used BMWs to women who were not virgins?”

“Then they came for the Jews.”
“Not really”.

“Then they came for me – and there was noone left to speak for me.”
“There’s a chance it could have been because you tweeted rape threats.”

“Did any of you hear that disembodied voice? Who’s sub-tweeting me?”

“It is I.” A shadowy form dropped down the shaft of the rock formation.

“You! Traitorous bast..”

“Don’t take another step. I have a tumblr pointed at you which I won’t hesitate to use. You can all lay down your weapons and get on the floor. And yes, I identify with the feminist cause, if you haven’t figur..”

Before the feminist could finish his words, the area was suddenly lit by the blinding glare of multiple think pieces. An aggressive tweet blared:


As others dropped to the floor in terror, the feminist took a couple of tentative steps forward and tried to make himself heard over the din.

“It’s all under control”.

“Sir, please cast your weapon away.”

“I have. The tumblr on the floor was mine. Everything is under control.”

“Sir, I repeat, please drop your weapon and fall on the floor.”

“I don’t have any weapon, everything is under control. These men were fleeing but I..”


“Base, I had to neutralise a threat. He wouldn’t put his mansplaino-matic away despite repeated warnings.”


The Curious Incident of the Gentlemen in the Night-Time

Scene 1:

It was the darkest of nights. Not the sort of night for a self-respecting gentleman to be out and about. The night was whispering all sorts of things, again , the sort of ugly stuff that would be of no interest to your average self-respecting gentleman. The message was clear. Gentlemen, stay home.

If one had been out that night, one would’ve witnessed 3 cars tearing along the highway. One would’ve seen the cars turn into the courtyard of the building at the south end of the street. One would’ve watched the cars depositing 12 gentlemen – open to debate – at the doors of the building and one would’ve been excused at thinking that something was afoot. But one didn’t have the chance to do any of these, because one was of course, a gentleman.

The 12 seemed to wait at the doors for someone. Many of the group looked uneasy and even a bit sulky. Of course it would’ve been stretching it to term them the 12 Angry Men, let’s leave it with the observation that there was definitely some unrest.

Soon enough, came a fourth car dashing into the portico and the group appeared to heave a collective sigh. The back door opened and a shrouded female figure appeared. The new arrival seemed to command some respect as the men followed her into the building.

A note to any youngster getting an uneasily familiar feeling ,: From this point on, the plot WILL deviate from that of a Naughty America gangbang video.

Scene 2:

A room in the aforementioned building. 13 shadowy figures are sitting around a rectangular table. At one end of the table, sits the revered female and she has an oblong device of some kind in her hand. At the opposite end of the table is placed a ….. box of some kind.

It looks like a television but the course of events so far would demand something more sinister than an idiot box there, wouldn’t it? We won’t pass a verdict yet, anyone of the henchmen can still walk over to the box, open a hitherto unsuspected lid and take out a goat’s head and a reversed cross and start a Black Mass.

But proving all the interesting suspicions unfounded, the box turns out to be a TV after all, as it turns on to display black and white grains jostling for space. It appears to be operated by the female leading figure using the oblong object in her hand , which at this point, can be safely assumed to be a remote control.

It can be summarily dismissed that watching TV would be the object of such a clandestine meeting of gentlemen at such an ungodly hour. What else could it be, then? The TV seems to hold the rapt attention of all the men. Even though it’s still showing only grains.

One of the men stand up and approach the telephone in the room to make a call. One would expect some sort of development to occur here, he could be letting in the anonymous contact who’s agreed to meet them here. Or convey to the carrier that the coast is clear. A variety of more sinister explanations can lend itself to the man using a telephone at the start of a secret meeting.

The conversation is remarkably short and also achieve the dubious distinction of being the first words spoken all night. He asks for the Cable Guy – obviously a code phrase, whom do they think they are fooling? He asks the “Cable Guy” to “fix it now” . Phht! So cliched for a secret meeting, wouldn’t you say?

He resumes his seat and watches the TV like the other 12. One wonders what interests these men in the grains? As in answer, the grains vanish and the screen is filled with moving images. Images of beautiful women and handsome men. Who are walking up and down ramps to groovy music.

Now, wait a minute. They’re not watching, horror of horrors, FTV? Why would they hold a meeting for that? And in such attention to detail that some of them are using magnifying lenses!

The entire group are transfixed by the images on screen. Suddenly someone yells! “BOOOOOOOBBSSSSSSS!!! YESSSSSSSSSSS!!! BOOOOOOOOOBBBBBBSSSSSSS!!!! WE GOT THEMMMM!!! BOOOOOOOOOBSSSSSS!!!!!” And the meeting breaks to celebratory whoops and yells of joy.

And thus concluded the meeting of the Ministry of Information & Broadcasting which decided to ban FTV in India for the second time.

From the BBC report.

“The visuals were found to be obscene, denigrating women and were not suitable for children and unrestricted public exhibition,” the statement said.

Bah, Humbug!!!

Image courtesy : wonkroom . thinkprogress . org