https://mobile.nytimes.com/2017/01/10/business/media/bill-oreilly-sexual-harassment-fox-news-juliet-huddy.html
we've all been tawdry at some point right? Probably the mrs' fault or the devil's, or satan's.... Bet you've been missing that wavey screen effect with harp sounding music preceding a fantasy scene, like on the brady bunch, cue it now....
can you imagine if the benji worked at fox news hq in Manhattan? Day 1: Here's your desk, there's the water cooler, this is your security tag and log-in IDs
day 2: The foxy looking black lady Harris Faulkner or whatever her name is invites me to dinner after work with some of her buddies at an Ethiopian restaurant in mid town... Later that night, Harris has a sore back and needs help lifting some boxes, next thing I know I'm skipping rope in her lounge room in a spangled and sparkling blue outfit singing 'if you knew Suzy like I knew Suzie, oh what a girl'... She is watching me from the couch with a margarita and a cushion on her lap... I'd better go now, I have to feed my goldfish I say
day 3: At the water cooler, I find out I can make 200 grand easy just by sending a sexual harassment claim to her lawyer(s), Mitch from HR overhears the conversation and practically gives me his brother in law's cousin's business card, she's a great lawyer and won't charge me a dime until settlement is received
day 4: queers and dykes come out of the woodwork coz they're thirsty and the coke vending machine down the corridor is too far... Some hot blonde decides to save me from the homos coz it's her religious duty, she isn't important enough to sue but looks really nice
day 5: looks like someone has taken one of my wraps from the fridge. Did I learn anything studying communications and media over a three year period? Thankfully there's an old school garbage bin and a fancy looking mounted baseball bat that looks like a vintage museum piece. I make busy banging loudly around the office and announce the correct protocol for not eating my food. I apologize for not using Instagram or Snapchat and ask people to spread the word, especially if their buddies are food thieves. The owner of the expensive vintage bat is troubled, I strike up a conversation about Christian principles after seeing a photo of him and his pastor on his desk. He agrees to forgive me and even turn the other cheek offering me free baseball tickets. I thank him and walk off pulling out my cell phone which is shaped like optimus prime when he's just a truck or whatever. I open up optimus prime and call my lawyer handling my other matter. I tell her someone is trying to ram their baseball culture down my throat and it's making me feel uncomfortable like. Can we sue?
Day 6:
I set up a giant red reset button on my desk, whenever it's pressed, cartman saying f you I'll do what I want overrides the fox news playing on the TV behind my swivel chair, thus:
https://youtu.be/z0-KZS1dDyw
My boss' name is Keith maybe, hard to remember, I view him as a holistic collaborator:
"I ain't going to Canada bro, unless it's like a little backwater town up north with mooses and snowy forests and oldtimers sitting around a real fire in a kickarse looking general store built before 1870. I'm not going to Vancouver or Quebec or anywhere like that."
Like Keith asks me what I mean?
I press the reset button and inform him I have that in Braille, just rub the windowsill.
I inform like Keith I'll be driving out to queens and getting something to eat and will return later in the day.
Day 7:
I install motion detectors to save electricity. Lights are dimmed at slow times when no motion is detected for a quarter hour. Lights come on when motion is detected. I procure bean bags and forward billing to accounts. I get phone numbers for hair and makeup, I have ideas.
Day 8:
There's a blonde intern from Harvard, she is either pretending to be incredibly dumb or else she's incredibly dumb. I tell her if she can beat me at battleships I'll get my uncle to name a ride after her as he owns Disneyland. We play on the new beanbags in my office, China vs America. We adjust the rules to reflect China's farther reach with anti-ship missiles and America's general naval superiority. It's battleships so there's no airforce. It's just A1 hit-sunk kind of thing.
Next I have to see Tobey in hair make up. He says that even though old lady Gunderson is nominally the boss, the lady in the frumpy dress, that he really rules the roost. Hold on I have to wait while he tinkles. He has a secret room in his office opened by a sneaky sliding bookshelf like in Scooby doo and Agatha Christie shows. In his secret room, there's one of those kind of motivation pictures like at employment agencies: the caption just says one word, Glory. The picture shows about a dozen black guys jerking off on a white guy, they all seem pretty happy, clearly Tobey is gay. He likes my ideas but says there's no way any of the male hosts will wear eyebrow piercings. He jokes that we might print 666 on Rupert Murdoch's forehead. My ideas about female presentation meet less scepticism but slutty skintight tops may not be achievable. I bid Tobey adieu and complement his Glory picture.
Day 9:
Battleships Harvard girl asks me out on a date, only one date, and there's no ambiguity about it being two different dates as we are both in the same time zone and the international time line is thousands of miles away, west of Hawaii. I tell her no, but not because of any potential ambiguity issues, but because it is 'blooks' night'. 'What's blooks' night?' she asks me. I explain it's where all the guys or blooks get together and just go out and party. She explains she was raised in a circus since being a baby to adulthood and wasn't completely familiar with modern social norms. I explain that I had just spent literally the past three years living in a hole underground but that I didn't want to go into explanations of it and the only reason I had a tan was because of tanning salons. She looks interested but I tell her I must go, as Mitch is waiting for me. She says something about sexual stereotypes so I ask her to change the oil in my car.
Out on the town, Mitch and his posse, all male, find what they deem to be a happening spot. After some time I am approached by a very attractive looking female. However, it is the 21st century and there no way for me to know if she was born a male and subsequently embarked on some form of gender reassignment therapy, therefore I have to assume that she could have had two dicks for all I know (this is an actual medical condition, some men are born with two dicks and it's a good reason to have gender reassignment surgery, possibly the only good reason).
"What?" the attractive looking woman says.
"Two dicks. How do I know you weren't born with them between your legs?"
Thank God for feminism and the fact that this woman makes so much money and is so empowered (I can tell by her jewelry and demeanor), because she doesn't throw her drink in my face, it looks like it would be sticky.
"I'm just saying," I go on earnestly. I proceed to explain my concerns about gender reassignment surgery and the hazards of modern dating for men not interested in women who had once been men, even just with one dick.
"You're joking, right? Good one! Actually it's hard for me to meet people sometimes because of my fame," she says, relieved that i'm joking, which i'm not.
"You're famous?" I ask.
"You've never seen Pasty Castles? I'm in Pasty Castles!"
At this point I decide to beat a strategic retreat to the futbolin table which actually looks like fun. I tell my interlocutor I need to go to the restroom.
Later in the evening she will spend half an hour to an hour, evaluating and analyzing our conversation with her BFF and another half an hour to an hour with her mother, analyzing our conversation. Although completely versed with the profound wisdom and knowledge of 'Sex in the City', this is a scenario she's not aware of. I find a piece of paper with her phone number on it and conveniently use it to protect innocent passerbys on the outdoors sidewalks from my chewing gum.
Datin' [sic]:
Ten days in, time to skip work and attend a transgender and transsexual support group for the heck of it. I need a cover story to infiltrate: "hi everyone, I'm Ben." "Hi Ben," everyone responds supportively. "My wife left me for an effeminate Asian man, I had to raise five boys alone. I attracted no women. I realized I had too much testosterone and needed an edge so like a lot of you, I started taking female hormone therapy. It made child raising a lot easier. For a while I was thinking about full conversion and falling pregnant with a sixth child. Then my eldest son started playing baseball and dating a sixteen year old girl two years older than him and she was really great, helping out with the kids. I decided I needed more testosterone with the eldest two kids coz they were getting very athletic so I stopped the female hormone therapy, took a little supplemental testosterone pills for a few months and have completely stopped with the pills for months now and feeling balanced out. That's my story."
"Thanks for sharing Ben," says Sam, who might be male or female and have boobs, or not.
day 11:
the news is in that transgender boy scouts aged 3 will be allowed to manifest their 'true transgender nature' in the boy scouts........... and this is progress, not child abuse..... it's too sick to ponder......... depressing, flicking over to Hannity --- he is basically saying he is running super low on Saudi cum and needs to drink a quart real fast to function normally ---- it's time to visit o'reilly............... step step step, i'm about to knock on his door when I hear him talking inside: 'ou est le chatte?' -- he repeats clumsily after hearing an instructional voice from some basic learn to speak French program, maybe he wants to brush up on his French and go to Quebec, who can say?
'hello, it's billy bob from maintenance,' I lie, knocking on the door trying to sound convincing, 'apparently we're going to need a couple of quarts of Saudi cum, preferably from a prince as opposed to some underling or handless thief, got any?'
'no I stopped drinking that stuff after it made me burp so hard my windows blew out.'
'ok, that sounds plausible, where can I get some?' I ask.
'Try Dobbs next door, they don't call him lewd for nothing.'
'ok.'
Dobbs is no good either, but he says he'll arrange me to take the fox news chopper to the white house asap as there may be a good supply there from the bush 43 years.
day 12:
it's the first of the month, time to cash my unemployment check (even though I got a job) and cash in cuz
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpBP9dALcWw
maybe braid me [sic] hair after that:
https://www.nytimes.com/2017/02/10/us/army-ban-on-dreadlocks-black-servicewomen.html?module=WatchingPortal®ion=c-column-middle-span-region&pgType=Homepage&action=click&mediaId=thumb_square&state=standard&contentPlacement=2&version=internal&contentCollection=www.nytimes.com&contentId=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.nytimes.com%2F2017%2F02%2F10%2Fus%2Farmy-ban-on-dreadlocks-black-servicewomen.html&eventName=Watching-article-click&_r=0
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