Before Elon Musk donated $3 billion to create the new Male Studies department, computer science was a male-dominated industry. Thousands of males languished away in their cushy programming jobs, girdling their testosterone supplies with each twist on their corporate-sponsored yoga balls. But now, the faculty of Male and Caucasian Studies (MCS) promises to remasculate the world, by teaching the next generation of tech-bros how to become true tech-men.
I decided to take an inside look at Stanford’s new Male Studies department, and the wave of thinkers spearheading it. I first spoke to JASON! (stylized in all caps) Friedman, the 19-year-old chair of the department.
“Male Studies is the new Computer Science,” JASON! said. “In just four years we offer our customers the next steps to kickstart their visionary potential to awaken the free man within them.” As JASON! was struggling to pronounce the sentence, I felt something stir deep within my brain, having long been suppressed by Stanford’s liberal indoctrination, now set aflame.
“That’s your inner man,” JASON! explained. “But also the radiation from my Musk-sponsored Neuralink. If you want one, I can sign you up for an MCS writing class for just 50 GME stocks.”
I was 10 minutes late to my first class of “Intro to Man Sounds: Finding Your Howl” (MCS numbers all its classes as “69,” making classrooms difficult to find). MCS offers an exciting way of teaching communication: Neuralinks implant a copy of Elon Musk’s mind within students’ brains, letting them think like the great billionaire. With all of Musk’s catchphrases pre-installed, MCS classes instead focus on managing the side-effects of having Musk’s mind, such as nighttime urges to drop out of Stanford.
When I arrived at class, I saw 16 MCS majors sprawled on the floor with their limbs intertwined, quietly groaning as rainforest sounds played from a speaker nearby. Later, I would learn that these men were simply enacting “punishment knots,” a medical practice as mandated by MCS’s Honor Code.
“Bodily contortion is the new G-fuel,” Blake Campbell, a student of the class, would explain to me afterwards. “Anytime we speak to an alpha, we have to stretch our bodies in such a way to quickly regenerate depleted testosterone. It’s the cost of networking.”
But, of course, I was ignorant of this, and, upon smelling my presence, the men retreated into their “alert” pose — a 170-degree man-spread. To avoid triggering any dominance conflicts, I followed the protocol JASON! had taught me: tell them my name, sperm count and all the internships I have. The men happily ushered me into the classroom.
It was hard to hear over the rainforest sounds, so the men graciously turned on a speaker blasting to their ambient music: Eminem. The teacher, who is randomly selected each week from a Discord poll, began to speak.
“Today’s class is the new yesterday’s class,” the teacher began. “Yesterday we unlocked our potential by raising this class’s unit load from 18 to 19. Who wants to see it go to 20?”
All the students roared with glee, an orchestra of raw masculinity. But before the teacher could speak, our Neuralinks fired a ringing noise in our brains, notifying us that the MCS department had gone bankrupt. Apparently, some spiteful CS majors had shorted Bitcoin, rendering the department’s budget essentially moot. Before sucking the remaining power from my brain, my Neuralink spared me a final thought: Would you like your diploma in matte black or electric blue?
Editor’s Note: This article is purely satirical and fictitious. All attributions in this article are not genuine, and this story should be read in the context of pure entertainment only.