Image via Antonio Guillem/Shutterstock.

On Wednesday morning, a venture capitalist with an invented name typed an op-ed with his pointer fingers for the Wall Street Journal’s website, with advice for women about succeeding in the workplace in the tech industry. Namely: don’t even try.

Advertisement

The man, who almost definitely named himself John Greathouse, argues that women in tech should present themselves with only their first initials, to fool their sexist coworkers into giving them equal opportunity. His argumentation, to me, an admitted stupid bitch, seems dishonest, and leads me to believe that Greathouse (again, probably not his real name) is a fraudster and a liar, willing to finesse his language so that we, too, can’t tell who he really is online (likely a man named John Smalldick).

I believe in truth and honesty in all things (confession: I am an ignorant child but extremely beautiful), so I made an effort to translate bits of his article to what I think he is saying.


“Professional women, are you properly curating your online first impression?” = Bitches with jobs, is your slack default image a picture of your bare breasts?

Advertisement

“Professional orchestras in the 1970s were comprised of an average of 95 percent men.” = Music used to be wonderful.

“Nearly 50 years later, the gender mix of most orchestras reflects that of the general population.” = Now, it is shrill and unpleasant.

“The single most significant factor was the introduction of blind auditions during the late 1970s, in which a screen obscured the musicians’ age, gender and ethnicity from the panel of evaluators.” = The evaluators were no longer distracted by honking sets of breasts, and were able to listen to the music and concentrate, as if there were no breasts around.

Advertisement

Sponsored

“Women in today’s tech world should create an online presence that obscures their gender.” = I still cannot help myself from ogling a good pair, please help me.

“As a reader, I appreciate a book when I don’t know the author’s gender and haven’t formed a concrete image of him or her.” = If I know a book is by a woman, when I look at the pages all I see is, “fkadfkldfa fdaljkdfa oruwpiouwe nnmvxcmnx wreoiwieuow,” like a sweet, dumb baby is playing pretend at writing, but that baby has an incredible set of cans.

Advertisement

“But whatever the reason—and however unfair it may be—I would suggest that if you are a woman raising capital, you might consider not including photos of your team in your pitch deck.” = Do this to avoid all of your prospective clients from whipping out their mature dicks and masturbating in the conference room.

“If you identify your team via their initials (men and women), you effectively strip out all preconceptions related to race, ethnicity and gender.” = I’d prefer to imagine my team is full of white men, the only sorts of people I trust.

“In your LinkedIn profile, Twitter account, email address and online correspondence use your initials (or a unisex name) and eliminate photos.” = Please, I have a sexual compulsion.

Advertisement

“I am not suggesting that people shun their ethnicity and run from their cultural identities.” = I am.

“My point is that many people in the business community are intellectually dishonest.” = Including me.

Advertisement

“They say that they believe in diversity of thought, but their pattern matching habits cause them to prematurely narrow their aperture before giving certain entrepreneurs a chance to prove themselves.” = We all have sex addictions.

“Much like a book, people cannot avoid judging their fellow humans by their ‘cover.’” = i.e. front pillows.

Advertisement

“As such, women in tech should consider what they can do to broaden the audience willing to engage with them while mitigating potentially negative misconceptions.” = i.e. that you have them thangs.

“A neutral online persona will encourage more people to evaluate your work products and experiences based on their inherent qualities, unclouded by preconceptions.” = It would make it easier for me, and my fellow men, to keep our withered, flaccid hunks of dry salami inside our expensive trousers, designed by white men for white men. Think of the men, and our fragile, crumbling penises.