Yesterday I posted a short comic thought and a young woman shared it. Here is the post: “Ever the optimist, I think we are witnessing the nervous breakdown at the end of masculinist culture in the form of a zombie apocalypse of very ugly men, leaking slimy fluids, in agonized postures.” I looked at the young woman’s repost, and she had written with a smily face, “Of course you mean ‘ugly on the inside’.” This is not the first time on FB a person has wanted to bend something I have written in a preferred epistemological direction. I said to her, “No, I meant it as I wrote it.” I added, although I wish I had not, “People show their inner ugliness on their bodies.” She said the disability mafia was strongly opposed to the word “ugly,” used in any context. I wrote, “I DON’T CARE.” I wish I had not used caps. I had already gone from zero to sixty when I first saw her remark. There is something aggressive about a person trying to pry off your meaning. I said to her, I don’t want to be corrected, or cleaned up, or advised according to your understandings. She has since deleted the post and unfriended me. It will not be news to readers of my posts to know I loathe the current wave of language policing, virtue signaling, and groupthink pressure. I loathe the concept of trigger warnings and to me the equally infantilizing concept of safe spaces. I loathe the use of the word “cis,” which has produced another biologically determined set of binary categories that may not even describe anything real since many people, trans or not, see themselves as gender nonconforming and gender fluid. I especially loathe that so much of this policing of language is enforced by female humans. It is neogoodgirl-itis. The need felt by female humans to look correct and correct others, to be kosher and on the right side of any moral divide, as they see it, deserves its own special vomit emoji. Be variant. Be deviant. Be a bother to others with your bent and original thoughts, dear young women. Or I will cut you. (Well, she cut me, but whatever.)