We Need a Name for Karen’s Husband

Dick is too obvious

I watched the latest Karen episode where Lisa Alexander, a white woman in Pacific Heights San Francisco, calls the cops on a person of color who is stenciling “Black Lives Matter” on his own property.

She is SO very patronizing in the video, informing the stenciler that she thinks the protests are great but “this is not the right way to do it.”

Poor Lisa took the brunt of the blowback after James Juanillo, the man who was stenciling, posted on Twitter a video of the encounter.

Thousands of articles talking about the “latest Karen” spread like fire across the internet.

Then I heard yesterday that the woman’s husband, Robert Larkin, was fired from his job at a wealth management company. Coincidentally, the last Karen to go viral, Amy Cooper, the woman in Central Park who called the cops on that lovely birder, also worked in wealth management.

Apparently people who work managing other people’s wealth are total douchebags.

Anyhow, Robert Larkin was standing kind of submissively (as you’d expect from a guy married to a Karen) like ten feet behind his wife, as she attempted to scold, enlighten and educate the homeowner about what he should or should not be doing on his own property. However, he did chime in now and then, and Robert was equally patronizing. Somehow, though, he kind of got off scott-free in the blogosphere.

I would like to rectify that. One of the great ironies is that Robert was standing there smugly holding something, which when you look closely is a phone, as he films the event of his own demise. What was he thinking, that perhaps later the police could use his filming to imprison the BLM stenciler?

Anyhow, they kind of deserve each other, Amy the skin care entrepreneur and her husband Robert the ex wealth manager.

The only thing missing from this picture is an appropriate meme name for the middle-aged entitled white guy. I mean, who is Karen’s husband? And why doesn’t he get as much grief as Karen? Is this yet another example of our Hillary Clinton-type misogyny? Why do we hate middle aged white women who speak their minds and not the men?

I don’t know the answer to that, but I think if we come up with a particularly annoying name for this male douchery to accompany our Karen meme, we will be cleansing the “entitlement” meme of its sexist component.

I suggest we call him Kyle, because it has the alliterative quality. Karen and Kyle. The name Kyle for some reason oozes with douchery. Borscht belt comedians theorized that the K sound was the best for comedy — it somehow gets to us.

That’s probably why Karen became so popular.

Now let’s meet Kyle, Karen’s husband. I suppose he needs a haircut. If you know your memes, you know that the Karen meme evolved from the “Can I speak to the manager haircut?” which was kind of a revolting long mom bob.

Let’s take a look at Kyle’s haircut:

That’s right, you can’t see his hair because of the wrinkly little cap that he’s wearing. Of course Kyle is wearing a cap. He’s probably balding but that doesn’t matter. Not only does he have his wealth and his white privilege, he’s got this funny little cap.

But let’s face it, Karen calls the shots. It’s kind of Lady MacBeth, really. Karen is like, “Let’s go harass this person of color.” Poor Kyle is like, “Well, if it were done ‘tis well it twere done quickly. But Karen, do we really have to?”

“Screw your courage to the sticking place, Kyle” she spits. “And take out the cell phone to film it in case this person of color gets violent with me.”

Afterwards Karen and Kyle feel pretty guilty — after they’re caught that is.

“Out, out, damn spot!” says Karen. She can scrub her social media and close down all her web sites. But her life is fucked. Her husband is unemployed. And as for skin care, well the only skin she needs to care about is the skin on her privileged white ass as it gets run through the red hot coals of cancel culture.

“This is a teachable moment,” says Karen. “We can learn from this. We can learn to be better people?”

Kyle looks at her and thinks, “What the fuck happened? One minute I’m strolling through my privileged neighborhood in San Francisco. The next thing I know I’m out of a job and everybody hates me and I’m learning to be a better person. This is the worst weekend ever!”

“Come here, honey,” says Karen.

And she takes his hand. They hold each other’s hand and they are glad they have each other. Karen and Kyle.

And their comeuppance.

So folks, remember, next time you go calling someone a Karen — jokingly or not — behind every Karen, about ten feet behind to be exact, is an equally entitled and kinda revolting middle-aged privileged white male. She didn’t come up with this arrogant attitude all by herself — she had a partner in crime.

And today we learned his name.

His name is Kyle.

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