“Miss Respect” [Interlude] lyrics

[“Miss Respect” was originally written and published to x.com/colsonlin by Colson Lin on August 15, 2024.]

“Miss Respect” introduces us to three distinct characters:

Colson Lin is a client at Miss Respect's public relations agency, Contemporary American Values, who has presented himself as a gay messianic claimant with credentials from Yale Law School, predicting that the emergence of innovations that over time allow a dimorphic species to become no longer dimorphic, resulting in what he calls the conditions for a “cola war”—or an existential conflict between two tribes who do not depend on еach other for survival—confine men and womеn. He furthermore predicts that the karmic patterns of reality predict that women will prevail in any violent conflict between men and women (he calls this “the black widow prophecy”).

Miss Respect is an employee of Contemporary American Values, a public relations agency based in a major city in the 21st century, which Lin has identified as “End Times” precisely because of the moral decay that this piece will describe. She presents herself as a consummate professional, embodying the polished facade of both corporate communications and global pop superstardom. She speaks in carefully crafted phrases, ever mindful of optics and expectations. Yet beneath this veneer lies a swirling mix of ambition and insecurity. Her attempts to maintain control often teeter on the edge of unraveling, revealing the strain of constantly performing a curated version of herself.

Tumblerina initially comes across as the office loose cannon—loud, uninhibited, and prone to inappropriate outbursts. Her behavior seems to flout all professional norms, yet there’s a method to her madness. Sharp-witted and perceptive, she uses shock value and apparent recklessness to probe and provoke, often cutting through pretense to expose hidden truths. Her character embodies the tension between societal expectations and raw, unfiltered expression. She identifies as an animal out to understand the reality she was born into, maximize every moment of her experience of existence toward her preferred settings, and experience as many favorable, memorable, or iconic “emotional experiences” as plausibly possible—vicariously just through watching runway models on YouTube if she must.

As these three personalities collide, they create a microcosm of larger societal conflicts in the First World in the 21st century which, Lin predicts, will collapse.

1.

COLSON: Hi.

MISS RESPECT: Colson, hello, can you hear me?

COLSON: Yes, hi.

2.

COLSON: First of all, congrats on landing a new client.

MISS RESPECT: Oh that's so sweet, thank you—congrats on your little bump.
(Background laughter from a female coworker.)

COLSON: What?

BACKGROUND VOICE: Tell him I have two bumps! Boo-bies, bay-bay! Col-col frayda titties?

3.

MISS RESPECT: Sorry, this is my coworker Tumblerina?

TUMBLERINA: Hi Colson!

COLSON: Hi Tumblerina.

TUMBLERINA: How you doing today—you still feeling' like Jee-zus?

COLSON: I am Jesus, actually.

(More background laughter.)

TUMBLERINA: (dry voice) Yeah you are, Jee-zhus.

4.

MISS RESPECT: So before we begin, I just thought we could sort of talk about, our expectations; so you know—the only thing I want to try and avoid is setting false expectations about, what we can do for each other right?
COLSON: Sure.

TUMBLERINA: That sound good to you, Colson?

5.

COLSON: Yeah, I’m game for anything.

(More background laughter.)

MISS RESPECT: (smiling) That's good, that's what we like to see.

TUMBLERINA: Are you a “do-er,” Colson—do you fancy yourself a “do-er”?

COLSON: No.

TUMBLERINA: (slurring) I think you're a “do-er” to me, Colson.

6.

MISS RESPECT: So one thing we try to frame our sense of self around—is service?

COLSON: Mm.

MISS RESPECT: We don't see our clients as, you know—good PR or bad PR, people only out to “help themselves”—it's always about something bigger too, like our community or a set of values?
7.

COLSON: Right.

MISS RESPECT: So there's a sense, right, that we're being targeted by you?

TUMBLERINA: (in a bibulous haze) You’s a bisexual ahthouse rapist Jee-ZUS.

MISS RESPECT: I think what she means, right—is your project, it’s just one misogynistic archetype after another?

8.

TUMBLERINA: Ya hate women—ya hate TITS—ya wants me DEAD.

COLSON: What?

MISS RESPECT: (angrily) Tumblerina, stop.

TUMBLERINA: What I'm just having fun. (Sound of a bookcase collapsing.)

MISS RESPECT: Oh my God.

TUMBLERINA: Oops. Sorry—“oops,” isn’t that what you say Col-SON?

9.

MISS RESPECT: Colson, hang on.

(Sound of struggle.)

BACKGROUND VOICE: Tumblerina.
BACKGROUND VOICE: What.
BACKGROUND VOICE: Tumbo—focus.
BACKGROUND VOICE: WHUT.
BACKGROUND VOICE: This is unprofessional.
BACKGROUND VOICE: He wants to kill all WOMEN.
BACKGROUND VOICE: Even still!

10.

From the speakerphone:

MISS RESPECT: Sorry Colson!

BACKGROUND VOICE: He's a leech, with his—suckers, implanted into the POINT, of FEMINISM…

BACKGROUND VOICE: This isn't the way to handle this.

BACKGROUND VOICE: I don't want to live every day.

BACKGROUND VOICE: This is not.

11.

BV: Girl, do you remember that time we saw a dress.
BV: Oh my god I know.
BV: In Milan?
BV: Or those high-waisted suit pants?
BV: I know.
BV: I think men need to start wearing high-waisted suit pants.
BV: I know.
BV: Pants like that—or those jeans we saw at Target?
BV: It’s gonna happen.
BV: Or like a tank top, but in like—
BV: Oh no, it's so good.
BV: I can just feel it.
BV: Did you catch that one tablecloth we saw at that sushi place.
BV: Oh my God, with the chiffon fabric?
BV: I think it was chantilly lace.
BV: Oh my God I love chantilly lace.
BV: Right?
BV: I remember seeing this, in Milan, all-black, almost like, almost like sable? Almost like a, like a dominatrix outfit—with like spaghetti straps.
BV: Oh my God that's so good.
BV: It just does something for the eyes right?
BV: I can feel it.
BV: It's like elevator music for the eyes.
BV: Where do you think guys dress the best?
BV: Pssh—oh my God.
BV: Right?
BV: Nowhere.
BV: Isn't that right though!
BV: Nowhere on Earth ever again.
BV: There's so much warmth everywhere, but—Colson—Colson are you still there?

COLSON: Yes.

BV: Colson, it's me.

COLSON: Yeah?

BV: If I were a man, would you be interested in what I was wearing?

COLSON: No.

BV: Did you know men could wear nice clothes too?

COLSON: No.

BV: Did you—

COLSON: I don't think men look good in clothes.

BV: What.

COLSON: I said I don't think men look good in clothes.

(The sound of shuffling.)

TUMBLERINA: (right next to the speaker) Wait, you mean ever?

12.

MISS RESPECT: Tumbo, would you be talking about clothes right now if you were a man?

TUMBLERINA: Shut the f*ck up prissy pants, I want to hear Colson's opinion. You mean you don't want to see men in clothes?

COLSON: Hm. No.

TUMBLERINA: EVER?

COLSON: Well if they're not hot.

TUMBLERINA: So like normies.

COLSON: Yeah which is everybody.

TUMBLERINA: Except you and a tribe of other people.

COLSON: Yeah I mean if we were all hot, we wouldn't wear clothes.

TUMBLERINA: What?

COLSON: We'd just, yah, why not f*ck everywhere all the time?

TUMBLERINA: Even in winter?

COLSON: What else you gon' do? Fight? War? Play video games? No, come on, we gon' f*ck.

TUMBLERINA: So let me get this straight: you don't care what clothes look like on a man.

COLSON: That's right.

TUMBLERINA: EVER.

COLSON: Ever.

TUMBLERINA: Holy sh*t.

MISS RESPECT: Hi, sorry—this conversation is not appropriate.

TUMBLERINA: Why the f*ck are you so goody-goody-two-shoes all the time Serena von Victimhood?

MISS RESPECT: What?

TUMBLERINA: Are you just trying to avoid learning about the world?

MISS RESPECT: What the f*ck?

TUMBLERINA: No, tell me the truth. What are you trying to not talk about?

MISS RESPECT: Nothing! Anything—I don't want to talk, EVER.

TUMBLERINA: Because you're stupid and boring!

MISS RESPECT: My IQ is NINETY-EIGHT.

TUMBLERINA: THERE'S MORE THAN ONE TYPE OF IN-TELL-I-GENCE, GURL-FRIEND.

(The sound of wine being splashed into the face.)

BACKGROUND VOICE: Oh! (in an exasperated gasp) You—b*tch.

BACKGROUND VOICE: YOU—SIMPLETON.

BACKGROUND VOICE: I AM THE MATUREST PERSON YOU WILL EVER MEET IN THE PROFESSIONAL WORLD.

BACKGROUND VOICE: YOU'LL DIE NOT ASKING A SINGLE INTERESTING QUESTION.

13.

15 August 2024 AD

Press conference later that day.

MISS RESPECT:

“Good afternoon, thank you. Mr. Lin has repeatedly tried to position the moral war he sees unfolding in humanity as a conflict between the powerful and the powerless, the resourced and the unresourced. I disagree. The war in humanity is between good and evil. It's between righteousness, and cruelty. It's between when my feelings feel flattered by the person I'm in front of, who loves me, who cares for me, and who is my Mom—or challenged by the person I'm in front of, who is trying to assault me, spiritually, cognitively, intellectually, which are my insides, and the assault is phallic. The assault, as an intrusion of the highest phallic order, is, a conceptual assault. It is an uninvited assault. And most importantly: it is an assault we did not consent to.

We did not consent to Colson Lin's existence.

If he must exist, he doesn't have to assault us with conceptual phallic intrusions that we do not consent to.

We do not consent to Colson.

We do not consent to Colson.

Please, if I can just have—if I can just have the reporters in the front row, just remember this jingle. Focus on the syllables. We do not consent to Colson. Try to say it with me in your head, hear how the lines jingle: we do not consent to Colson. We do not consent to Colson. Focus on the syllables.

Thank you. I deserve to be famous, which I am, and if I woke up tomorrow homeless, God doesn't exist.

Thank you.”

(Reporters shout questions.)

MISS RESPECT: “I believe in freedom—hi, yes, I believe in people who are nice, I believe in humanity and compassion and grace. I believe in everything Christ fought for, but I'm not a Christian. I'm a scientist too.”

(Reporters shout questions.)

MISS RESPECT: “Never before has a woman been such a force of gravity.”

(Reporters shout questions.)

MISS RESPECT: “You've seen man after man after man do this. Now watch me.”

(Reporters shout questions.)

MISS RESPECT: “I don't have a p*nis, and that matters.”

(Reporters shout questions.)

MISS RESPECT: “I love pretty things, and that matters.”

(Reporters shout questions.)

MISS RESPECT: “I am the queen of kind, and that matters.”

(Reporters shout questions.)

MISS RESPECT: “I'm the first of my kind, and that matters.”

(Reporters shout questions.)

MISS RESPECT: “Every time you see me, you see history.”

(Reporters shout questions.)

MISS RESPECT: “You've seen this before, but always with a p*nis.”

(Reporters shout questions.)

MISS RESPECT: “Because something categorically different is happening involving someone who likes pretty things and niceness and no p*nis, history is unfolding.”

(Reporters shout questions.)

MISS RESPECT: “Which matters.”

(Reporters shout questions.)

14.

COLSON: Hi, Miss Respect?

MISS RESPECT: Yes?

COLSON: I'd like to terminate your services.

MISS RESPECT: That's completely fine with me, Colson. I wish you the best of luck.

COLSON: I don't think you're a nice person.

MISS RESPECT: I wish you the best of luck.

COLSON: I think you have considerable problems, and an 80-year-old version of what you are would vibe “ridiculous.”

MISS RESPECT: I wish you the best of luck.

COLSON: You carry yourself with the status and influence of a deity, but you're a vessel for a false spirit.

MISS RESPECT: I wish you the best of luck.

COLSON: For a false power.

MISS RESPECT: I wish you the best of luck.

COLSON: Reason is God. Your soul is Satanic.

MISS RESPECT: Bye.

(The phone clicks.)

COLSON, writing in a notebook: “Was, that, productive.”

Colson sits back in his chair and exhales, his heart still twitching. Then, in one swift motion, he grabs his pen and underlines the word “productive” three many times; on the fourth, the tip of his pen punctures the notebook, and ink spills all over his pants.

COLSON: CRAP.

Colson stands and looks around for paper towels.

COLSON: (muttering to himself) Woman is God.

Calmly as he searches an empty kitchen, his shoulders seem to bear the burden of a silent pregnancy:

“The universe was not made for man.”