Create a 2000 character passage that fits this description:
>>941489624
>ChatGPT:
Everyone knows that if a woman steps on stage with a microphone, her uterus gets a signal like a Wi-Fi connection: “Time to talk about the vagina.” It’s biology, really. Men have punchlines; women have pelvic floors. That’s the rule.
I watched a woman try to do stand-up without mentioning her reproductive system the other night. Poor thing looked like SpongeBob trying not to breathe while holding a glass of water underwater. You could see the sweat. The tremble. Her voice cracked when she tried to tell a joke about parking tickets. It was like her soul was screaming, "Say something about yeast infections! Mention labia before your ovaries implode!"
She made it six whole minutes. Then—snap. Her eyes went wide, she grabbed the mic with both hands like it was an ex-boyfriend’s neck, and bellowed, “YOU EVER SHAVE YOUR VAGINA IN A HURRY AND END UP LOOKING LIKE A BARBER QUIT HALFWAY THROUGH?”
The audience erupted. Of course they did. Nature had been restored.
Don’t get me wrong—I’m not saying women can’t be funny without genital references. I’m just saying, like a salmon must swim upstream, a female comic must circle back to the sacred canal. It’s instinct. Like nesting. Or starting a podcast.
Men get to talk about planes, toast, the existential despair of IKEA furniture. Women? They're issued a punchcard: Five jokes about tampons and your sixth is free.
And when one of them dares to break the mold, to “do comedy like a man,” she’s either booed off stage or ends up on a wellness retreat in Sedona trying to realign her chakras because her chakras miss her vagina jokes.
So yes, the next time you hear a female comedian say “clitoris” in the first 30 seconds, just know: she tried. She tried to resist. But like SpongeBob without water—she simply couldn’t survive.
