The Comrade Cup

Yesterday, Return of Kings released an article discussing the desire of Swedish women to mandate the government pay for their menstrual health care products. United Shitlords remember the fall of democratic socialism across the world, so we wish to examine here the implementation of such an idea for those too young to understand how it works. Grasp your tampon strings and pad wings tightly.

Under democratic socialist governments, all citizens don’t receive the best treatment but the same care options. Giving everyone the greatest for the little paid into the system costs too much for long-term viability. No matter, though! Swedes, used to lagom since birth, internalise this concept already. People in the United States might encounter difficulty swallowing said notion.

Women want Big Daddy Government to foot the bill for their menses? Done! Some adjustments must occur before the deployment, however. Taxpayers possess little choice in the matter, due to the issue being sorted by a committee, appointed via selected elected officials, voted into office by the masses, etc. Just close your eyes and trust.

The Green Revolution

Free pads and tampons, you cried? No, the environmentalists throw fits if we pluck two leaves from a branch of one tree. Certainly, cutting down forests for processing into paper and fibre to stem the flow of your red tides lies outside the corral of acceptable options. What can a tightly-funded, overworked, underpaid health ministry consider as a workable solution to this problem?

Enter the menstrual cup. It fits all the requirements of the task. Some include:

  • cheap;
  • durable;
  • fits all — even the fattest of feminists;
  • non-allergenic, due to its composition of synthetic material;
  • ordinary, as any colourant incurs a higher price to the state;
  • reusable;
assortment of differently-coloured menstrual cups
Not the pretty options available upon reaching puberty. Image by Frank Krueger, used under the terms of CC BY 3.0.

How does the Comrade Cup enter into circulation? Easy:  When a nubile snowflake enters into womanhood, she arises at 05:30 and applies for one at the local Reproduction Regulation clinic. The process lasts 15 minutes with a four hour wait to see the doctor (the only one on duty). Those familiar with the public medical system in Canada, Finland, or Poland know this drill well.

The first Comrade Cup arrives without any financial burden to the user. Of course, some people opt for devices of brilliant hues or the more traditional feminine hygiene supplies. However, none of those come free of charge. Like other services run by a single governmental entity, she who pays private picks from a wider pool of possibility.

Denizens, conditioned to revere their privileged position, care for their cups. If lost, the onus falls on the punter. Given vaginæ lack teeth or high pH levels, Comrade Cups endure the test of time. Mothers, after hitting The Wall, anticipate passing it to their daughters in some sort of dystopic torch transferral.

“We followed Uncle Scheißeherr’s snatch squeezing advice and have super snappers. The cup fits too tightly!” you squeal? We covered that event too! On the next corner sits a migrant centre full of Congolese and Somalis ready to loosen your cabooses. The state thinks of everything.

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