From a Marxist lens, the incel problem isn’t just about “wahh, no gf,” it’s a symptom of capitalism’s festering alienussy—alienation, that is. Under the bourgeois jackboot, you’ve got wagecucks slaving away, commodified to hell, while the Chads and Stacies hoard all the social capital like it’s fuckin’ gold bars. The incel’s a prole of the sexual marketplace, see, crushed by the class divide between the “haves” (smug gigachads banging 10/10s) and the “have-nots” (you, crying into your anime body pillow). Now, flip the script to a socialist utopia—smash the patriarchy and the private property that props it up. No more incels when the means of reproduction (read: access to companionship) get collectivized, fam. Imagine it: the state seizes the dating apps, Tinder’s algorithm gets replaced with dialectical materialism, and instead of swiping right on a yacht-owning finance bro, everyone’s assigned a comrade gf based on mutual class solidarity. No more “height requirement: 6’2” or bust”—that’s bourgeois decadence. In a worker’s paradise, your labor’s value ain’t tied to your jawline or your bank account, so the incel’s existential dread evaporates like vodka in a gulag. Plus, free healthcare means therapy for all you socially awkward degenerates, and communal living means you’re forced to talk to people instead of shitposting on KC all day. The incel problem? Solved when we abolish the sexual aristocracy and redistribute the vibe. Chad’s harem gets liquidated, Stacy’s hypergamy gets BTFO’d by the People’s Republic of Equal Vibes. Everyone’s a winner, except maybe the ruling class, who’re too busy getting rekt by the revolution to care.