(in relation to Plato’s allegory of the Cave and Atwood’s internalized Male Gaze)
Ha! Gotchu, you fuckin’ nerd. You thought I was gonna comment on how Foucault’s panoptic systems extend beyond the carceral archipelago and into our own minds, affecting our perceptions of reality as described by Plato’s cave allegory? Yeah right, I’m not a total pussy.
Instead of contemplating how the illusion of eventual freedom for Foucault’s prisoners reflects the subjectiveness of the reality for the prisoner who departs from the cave, I’ve been doing really cool things like fucking your mom AND your stepmom. The only cave my alpha self cares about is my sick MAN Cave—it has beer and sandwiches made by women.
So, nerd, it’s obvious I know a lot about women (unlike you). I know what you’re thinking: I bet this kid smashes so much puss that he doesn’t have the capacity to extend the internalized panopticon to Margaret Atwood’s theory of the internalized male gaze. You’re right. I couldn’t care less about how the male fantasy ever-present in every modern woman’s head is a prison warden of itself, and that escape would be as disorienting as leaving the cave. I bet you care though, because you “read theory.”
See? You’ve totally been pranked, nerd. Look at your dumb little face. This was a trap. Your stepmom and I are laughing at you right now. We’re in bed together. Watching you like the ever-present gaze of surveillance. Go touch some grass or try and get some pussy like the rest of us—don’t worry about condoms, your philosophy major is its own birth control.