Faux News op-ed: I Am Down with the Working Class

One might think that as an undergraduate majoring in identity studies at Uxbridge University, I would consider the concerns of working-class people to be beneath me. Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, I pride myself on being down with the working class.

I make a point of acquainting myself with working-class culture by asking the working-class people I know: at home, the maid and the gardener, and on campus, the cafeteria workers and the maintenance people. They seem less pleased to answer my questions than I assumed they would be and sometimes downright resentful. For this, I blame false consciousness engendered by capitalism.

I believe that this is important because, like all of my friends, I grew up in the banal environment of upper-middle-class suburbia. I can now connect to the more vibrant and authentic cultures of people who are free from this burden.

It also helps me see the solution to their plight. Just as my parents pay my tuition, room, and board and give me a healthy allowance, surely society can afford to do likewise for working-class people.

I have one classmate, however, who inexplicably does not see things my way. Given where he came from, he cannot expected to be so enlightened as the rest of us, but would it kill him to keep his stupid redneck hick opinions to himself?

Faux News: Study Shows Broad Support for Higher Taxes on Other People

VALLEY HILLS (Faux News): A groundbreaking new study shows that Americans overwhelmingly believe that government should protect the public good by imposing higher taxes on other people.

According to Antonia Comstock of Comstock Opinion Research, a nationally representative sample was conducted of 35,721 adults interviewed by telephone, on both cellphones and landlines. Comstock Opinion Research asked the respondents questions about what whether higher taxes were desirable and, if so, on whom.

One respondent said, "We need higher taxes to maintain the high quality of services to which we're entitled. I can't pay more because my budget is stretched as it is, but for other taxpayers, I just know that it'll be no problem."

Another said, "The state needs to keep current revenue levels, and with the tax refund that I'm going to get because of the recent court decision, that money has to come from somewhere."

Respondents in the District of Columbia cited two injustices that our nation's capital faces: taxation without representation and the lack of power to impose a commuter tax.

"This study," Comstock said, "shows an increased maturity among Americans in recognizing that the collective good of the collective whole requires that someone else make sacrifices."

Faux News: Democrats, Republicans offer competing plans to replace Statue of Liberty.

WASHINGTON, September 15, 2015 (Faux News) — As the nation mourns the destruction of the Statue of Liberty in the Great Blowback of 2015, Republican and Democratic U.S. senators have offered competing plans to replace the iconic statue with images that they say are more in keeping with contemporary American values.

Senator Brianna Fischer proposes rebuilding the Statue of Liberty as the Statue of Equality. Explains the Northeastern Democrat, "Liberty is an outmoded concept, and the word is just a code word for racism. Since we now understand that equality is what actually matters, our nation's iconography should reflect that."

Meanwhile, Senator Cody Brennan proposes building the Statue of Security on the site of the destroyed statue. Explains the Deep-South Republican, "Liberty was fine in the past, but the Great Blowback of 2015 changed everything. Those who would give up liberty for security are simply making the common-sense recognition that the Constitution isn't a suicide pact."

Faux News: Residents of Nightlife District Complain to City Council About Noise, Crowds

VALLEY HILLS (Faux News): Residents of Valley Hills’ 18th Avenue nightlife district attended last night’s meeting of the city council to demand that the city government take action against the noise and crowds.

Residents of the neighborhood, famous across the state for its vibrant after-hours scene, complained of having to listen to music and crowd noise from the clubs and walk past tipsy suburbanites on their way home. Said one person who had recently moved to the 18th Avenue corridor, “Does anyone on the city council seriously believe that I would move from the suburbs to a condo directly above Club Splondeed to subject myself to that? Why isn’t anything being done?”

Another recent purchaser in the same building concurred, adding, “Condos on or near 18th Avenue are among the most expensive in the city. For what we pay to live here, we’re entitled to a little peace and quiet. Why does the city keep approving commercial land use that is clearly out of place in this neighborhood?”

Others who were fed up with the noise and crowds have found a different solution. Said one resident, “I used to have a roommate who got tired of the whole situation, so he bought a house in the county agricultural preserve. He no longer has to deal with the nightlife, but now he has to smell fertilizer. Why won’t the county board of supervisors step in and do something?”

See also: MILMOT: Make it like my old town

Fiction: The Raw Materials of a Man

“Are you going to finish that?” asked Kenny, pointing to my uneaten French toast with his fork.

“No, you go ahead and finish it,” I responded, pushing the plate across the table.

Kenny wordlessly took the plate, placed it in front of himself, and set upon the French toast.  After finishing it off, which did not take very long, he shifted his bulk in his chair and looked at me for a bit.  Then he said, “You’ve been acting strangely lately.”

“How so?” I asked.

“You seem so … I don’t know … distant.  Like we hardly even know each other anymore.  Like we’ve grown apart.”

“What are you talking about?”  I asked.  “It’s not at all as though we don’t know each other.  I take you everywhere with me.  The things that I used to do by myself, we do together now.  Now finish that up so we can get out of here.”

As I thought about what he had said, however, I realized that he had a point.  We hardly seemed like the happy couple that we had been before.  When we first met, Kenny, only 20 and still in college, seemed less like a man than like the raw materials from which men are made.  I almost immediately fell in love with him for his potential, and I knew that I would be able to guide him to achieve that potential.  Lately, however, he seemed ever less reachable.

Once Kenny finished and cleared the dishes, we got onto the road to the bookstore.  “So what is this again?” Kenny asked while we were on the road.

“It’s a book signing.”

“Yes, I remember that, but what book?”

“The Crossroads of the Spirit by Raven Silverberg.  We talked about that; remember?”

“Oh, yeah, that new-age crap that you’re into now.”

“Yes, that ‘new-age crap’ that I’m into now.  Instead of sneeringly dismissing it, you really ought to keep an open mind; you might learn something.”

Kenny just sighed.

“You might want to show me a little gratitude,” I said, “for trying to open you up to new experiences.  I know that if you had an open mind, you’d find them enriching.”

“Oh, and just how do you know that?”

“Don’t ask such ridiculous questions.  I just do.  Now would you mind not ruining this for me?”

“Oh, all right, I promise not to ruin it for you.”

At the bookstore, I told the author my name so that she could autograph the book.  After autographing it, she turned to Kenny and asked, “And you are?”

“Ken Parks,” said Kenny, extending his hand.

“Well, Ken,” said Raven, “I get the sense that you have a very old soul.  Are you a seeker after knowledge like your friend Ron?”

“Well, I guess I’m a seeker after knowledge, but not like Ron.”

“I see.  What do you believe about the world beyond the physical?”

“I’m very open-minded about it; I’ll believe whatever you can prove to me with evidence and logic.”

“That’s, um, a very interesting perspective, young man.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, a few other people require my attention.”

On the way home, I asked, “What did you mean by that?”

“What did I mean by what?”

“That you’re a seeker after knowledge, but not like me.  And that comment about whatever she can prove with evidence and logic was just plain rude, especially after you’d promised not to ruin it for me.”

“What I meant was just what it sounds like,” Kenny answered in a testy tone.  “We’re different people, and sometimes I get tired of having you tell me what my interests should be and what I should think.”

“Well, excuse me for trying to expose you to new things.”

“Expose me to all the new things you like.  I don’t have to agree with all of it.”

“I expose you to new things like that because they’re what you need to enrich your life.”

“And you just know, better than I do, what I need to enrich my life, right?  Stop trying to control what I think.”

“I don’t get you.  This morning, you complained that we were growing apart, and now you complain that I’m trying to control what you think.  I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t.”

“That’s just it.  It’s like I’m not me; I’m just something to turn into another you.”

We spent the rest of the ride home in silence.

That evening, Kenny seemed distant from me.  I finally said, “You used to be more open to new things.”

“When was that?” he asked, barely looking up from the magazine that he had been reading.

“When we first started going out.”

“Back then, I was trying to get to know you.  It didn’t mean that I wanted to be a clone of you or believe everything you believe.”

“And here I thought you were doing it to grow as a person.”

Kenny threw the magazine onto the coffee table.  “So I’m supposed to grow as what person?  You?  Believe whatever trendy bullshit comes down the pike if you want.  Shove a crystal up your ass and chant your mantra.  But don’t assume that just because you’ve gotten into it, I have to be, too.”  He got up and started heading to the bathroom.

“At times like this,” I said, “I think that the Kenny I first loved has gone away.”

After a long pause, he came back into the living room.  “At times like this,” he said, “I don’t think the person you first loved ever existed at all.”  He went into the bathroom.

“I suppose you’re right,” I muttered, and then hoped that he hadn’t heard me saying so.

Faux News reports: Governor Proposes Bold New Government Programs to Solve Problems Caused by Previous Bold New Government Programs

Governor Chris Rosenkreuz announced at a news conference today that he is proposing a series of bold new government programs to solve the problems caused by the last round of bold new government programs.

Speaking at the Valley Hills Community Center, Governor Rosenkreuz said, "For too long, we leaders in state and local governments have stood idly by and done nothing about the unintended consequences of our actions. We must put a stop to that and act now.

"For instance, drug prohibition has led to drug-fueled gang violence and has also led people to replace banned substances with unsafe alternatives. That is why we must take a zero-tolerance approach in the War on Certain Drugs.

"We also need increased action to stop the spread of HIV, caused by men who were driven to the D.L. back when we had sodomy laws and remain there thanks to the homophobic police. We further need stricter environmental enforcement to counteract the environmental abuses facilitated by tort reform.

"With regard to the economy, we need greater economic-development incentives. Businesses keep leaving for neighboring states with different tax rates and regulatory schemes, and we need to replace them.

"Our mandates for lower development density have led to far-flung sprawl. We should therefore take land by eminent domain to build neo-urbanist town centers and thereby conform to this week's eternal verity of good land planning."

When asked whether the newly announced programs could have unintended consequences that would have to be fixed later, Governor Rosenkreuz responded, "Everyone in my administration knows that 'unintended' and 'unforeseeable' mean the same thing. Besides, it all ties in with my next bold new government program, which is a jobs program in the state capital."

Faux News reports: Area Man Founds Christian Conservative Advocacy Group

A Valley Hills resident has founded an organization to campaign for traditional family values, Faux News has learned today.

Paul Martinac, a member of Gibeah Hill Baptist Church in Valley Hills, has founded the organization, Conservative Republicans Against Perversion, to advocate for what he sees as the Bible's timeless message of conservative morality. "Throughout the Old and New Testaments," said Martinac, "the Bible clearly and consistently teaches that marriage is between one man and one woman and that life begins at conception. Since the Bible also says that secular governments should follow God's Law, we must return secular law to these fundamental values."

When asked about some Christans' belief in social justice, Martinac scoffed. "If God wanted us to be liberal do-gooders and give to charity," he retorted, "why do you think whoever gave the Sermon on the Mount said, 'God helps those who help themselves'?"

However, some Valley Hills churchgoers were unimpressed. Georgina Rekers, who attends the Metropolitan Community Church of Christ the Community Organizer, said, "A big part of the reason why Mother/Father God sent the Christ was to preach the gospel of social justice. Why do you think that whoever gave the Beatitudes said, 'From each according to his ability, to each according to his need'?"

Fiction: The Encounter

Roy's friends kept telling him that he should stop trying to find hookups online and instead go to a real bar to meet men face to face. Behind every user I.D. like "musclejock19," they reasoned, was a vile troll who sent other people's photographs as his own and teased people just enough to accumulate that evening's J.O. material.

It made sense to Roy. His online experience had so far been fruitless; the few men who had agreed to meet him had disappointed him and had fallen far short of his standards. While Roy was no longer a young twink, he considered himself to be quite a catch -- masculine, with a terrific body and an ample endowment -- and wanted someone on the same level.

Saturday evening, Roy dressed to show off his assets and drove down the parkway into the city. The Ramrod bar, which had intimidated him when he had first come out, but which now seemed much less threatening, was near the 10th Street exit from the parkway. That area was not the city's safest, but Roy figured that he could chance it.

He found a parking space surprisingly close to the address, went to the door inconspicuously marked "1124," and entered. After giving his eyes time to adjust to the low light, he took a stool at the bar, ordered a drink, and looked around. So far, the clientele appeared to be an improvement, but not by much, over the tired queens whom he might expect to see at the piano bar farther uptown. He was not optimistic.

Then, he noticed that someone standing by the pinball machine was checking him out. That someone was better looking than just about anyone else in the bar and had a welcoming smile. Roy motioned him over.

The man by the pinball machine walked over to Roy and stood next to him at the bar. The way in which he held himself suggested both eagerness and submissiveness, both of which were pluses as far as Roy was concerned. "So," Roy asked, "what's your name?"

"I'm Ed." Ed extended his hand.

"Roy." Roy gave Ed the firm handshake on which he prided himself. "You a regular here?"

"I come here now and then. If you like real men, as opposed to twinks, this is the best place in town. How about you? I don't think I've seen you here before. I'd remember you."

Ed's response sounded encouraging to Roy, who responded, "I've been out of the bar scene for a while."

"Oh. Dating someone, or just tied up with work?"

"Neither. Just haven't gotten out much, I guess. Oh, and I'm not the one who gets tied up."

"I could tell," said Ed, grinning broadly. This was going better than Roy had anticipated. "So, what do you do for a living?"

"I work in the service department at Appliance Universe." Roy never appreciated that question, but Ed had asked. "Out in the Linden Hill Industrial Park."

"I work near there, in the Linden Hill Professional Center." Ed did not elaborate, and Roy was happy to let the subject drop.

"Can I get you a drink?" asked Roy.

"Sure," said Ed. Once they were able to get the bartender's attention, they placed their drink order. As they drank, they made the usual content-free bar chatter that people make to get to know one another.

Eventually, they decided to go to Roy's apartment, Ed following Roy up the parkway and the secondary routes to the garden apartment complex where Roy lived. When they got to Roy's apartment, they first made out for a while on the rather threadbare sofa in the living room. Roy was unused to hosting, and the apartment showed as much, but Ed did not seem to mind. Roy ordered Ed to strip, get down on his knees in front of Roy on the sofa, and fellate him, which Ed did with relish for much longer than Roy could remember that anyone else had done. As the night went on, Roy livened things up with his belt and with verbal abuse, both of which made Ed an ever more eager submissive. Once Roy came, they retired to the bed, Roy holding Ed tight through the night.

On Sunday, neither of them had to work, so Ed was Roy's plaything for the day. There was enough food in the refrigerator that Ed could cook them both breakfast. After that, Roy became steadily more dominant, and as the level of control, humiliation, and pain in the scenarios increased, so did Ed's ardor.

Eventually, it was time to part and to prepare for Monday morning. After Roy and Ed exchanged telephone numbers and e-mail addressed, Ed departed, promising to call or e-mail Roy soon. That evening, Roy masturbated while recalling the day's activities, as though he had not come enough times that day as it was.

Monday proved to be a slow day for Roy. In the afternoon, he had some time between service calls, so he pulled the piece of paper with Ed's contact information out of his wallet and called.

"Good afternoon," the receptionist at Ed's work number said, "Family Physicians of Linden Hill. How may I direct your call?"

"Ed, please."

"Just one moment, sir." After a pause, the receptionist returned to the line. "I'm sorry, sir. Dr. Rizik is with a patient and cannot be disturbed. Would you like his voice mail?"

"Um ... no, thanks." Roy hung up.

On Tuesday after work, when Roy checked his e-mail, there was a message from Ed's e-mail address, with the subject line "from your adoring slave." Roy deleted it unread, closed his e-mail client, and went to see who was in online chat.