Flash Fiction #114 (Exactly 114 Words): Keep the Troops Motivated

Another wildlife-related incongruous illustration.

“Wanna know why we lost in Afghanistan?  We didn’t bang enough hookers.  If we banged any.  I don’t think they even have hookers there.  When you invade a country, you gotta keep the troops motivated.”

“What about Vietnam?  I saw Full Metal Jacket; we banged plenty of their hookers, yet we still lost.”

“Not really.  According to Noam Chomsky—”

“Who’s he?  A pimp?”

“No, a political writer.  He said we actually won in Vietnam, ’cause we made it an example.  Fuck around and find out.  That philosophy kept us in charge around the world, long as we had hookers.  But now—I doubt Afghanistan’ll ever get a Starbucks or even a Taco Bell.”

Copyright © 2021 by David V. Matthews

September 12-13. 2021

Flash Fiction #113 (Exactly 113 Words): Take Your Plane to Work Day

As we ate organic chicken taquitos in the employee dining hall during lunch, my coworker Brynn asked me if I planned to attend “that thing” commemorating the twentieth anniversary of 9/11.

I couldn’t resist. “You mean take your plane to work day?”

Brynn laughed. Then I think that bitch complained to HR, just as I think she’d complained when I’d joked about fundamentalist anti-trans nutcases. No sensitivity training this time, though—the company fired me, after those federally-enhanced unemployment benefits had expired. So much for the publishing business. Perhaps I had a death wish, saying anything around her. But I had gigantic balls. And I still do. In your mama’s mouth, ha ha.

Copyright © 2021 by David V. Matthews

September 10, 2021

Flash Fiction (a Hundred Words Exactly) #74: Drama

Kacy’s left-wing radical sister Kerrie told her three months ago “Trump doesn’t give a shit if you die from coronavirus.”  Things went south from there.  The sisters haven’t spoken to each other since, not that Kacy minds.  She has enough drama in her life, starting with her eight-year-old son Austin’s pathetic performance in school.  The teachers think he has a learning disability, though he’s certainly learned how to avoid work, and how to hit people up (including even his father, her asshole ex-husband number two) for money.  Perhaps Austin has a bright future with the Democrat Party.  Suck it, Kerrie.

Copyright © 2020 by David V. Matthews

Flash Fiction (a Hundred Words or Fewer) #69: Christmas in April

Jenkins Winthrop, from Caldune Petroleum, joined other fossil-fuel company CEOs for a meeting with the president in the Oval Office. That night, over dinner at his mansion, Winthrop told his lover—the Energy Department’s social-media representative, Stewart “Stewie” Pringle—that under Trump, the coronavirus pandemic means “fuckin’ Christmas in April” for Big Oil: gigantic tax breaks, gigantic grants, suspended EPA rules, and nothing for renewables. “What a surprise, ha ha,” Winthrop said.

“Did you practice social distancing at that meeting, ha ha?” Pringle asked.

“Yeah, and I hoarded fuckin’ toilet paper too, ha ha.”

Face masks. Sanitizer. Endless days off.

Copyright © 2020 by David V. Matthews

No Mo’ MoDo (I Mean It This Time)

Considering I have several Everests of unread books to tackle (someday, Christina Stead), perhaps I shouldn’t spend time hate-ish reading Maureen Dowd’s column every week.  By “hate-ish,” I mean perhaps I revere MoDo for the success she’s enjoyed despite—or more likely because of—her snarky insubstantiality.

And if you want snarky insubstantiality to the extreme, dudes and dudettes, check out her latest, Dowdier-than-usual column, “A Meme Girl Mash-Up,” in today’s New York Times.  The very first sentence, which mentions Tina Fey and Mean Girls, gives us Dowd’s trademark celebrity name-dropping and pop-cultural referencing.  Two sentences later, Dowd opines “Politics has never been filled with so many mean girls[,]” thus displaying her misogyny; she always depicts non-masculine traits as unfavorable.  However, her “bitchyyy lunch table” comprising Mitch McConnell, Rudy Guiliani, and other nasty, male and female Republicans who worship Trump the “Queen Bee” did surprise me, since she almost always disparagingly feminizes Democrats, including Hillary Clinton, who behaves either unwomanly or too womanly.  Not to worry, though—Dowd soon enough designates the Democrat Mike Bloomberg as a wanna-bee.

And also not to worry, Dowd then hates on Hillary, criticizing her for, during that presidential debate, not calling out the Donald for his stalking-esque behavior (though if Hillary had called him out, do you think Dowd would have reacted favorably?).  By the time Dowd notes that “Trump…is now scratching Bloomy’s eyes out[,]” the retrograde gender attitudes will make you feel like chasing a blonde, busty secretary around a desk.

Copyright © 2020 by David V. Matthews

Flash Fiction (a Hundred Words or Fewer) #52: AOC XXX

My favorite website, Pornhole, posted a video today called AOC XXX, featuring a woman identified only as AOC, an Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez lookalike with a huge rack and a thick Puerto Rican accent: “I have a Brrrown Nude Deal for jou!”  Wanting to discover if the human race has justified its existence, I paid $14.99 for the privilege of watching the lookalike fuck lookalikes of Bernie Sanders, Nancy Pelosi, and Donald Trump, all three played by much younger thespians.  Sorry, human race, don’t mean to sound reverse-ageist, but you still suck.  At least I have new material for my nonexistent memoirs.

Copyright © 2019 by David V. Matthews

February 16, 2019 (revised February 21, 2019)

To the Left, to the Left

As Jeff walks toward his cubicle that morning at Vanderblock Performance Management, ready to start another goddamn day reviewing hundreds of hundred-page ergonomics reports till he wants to gouge his eyes (or preferably someone else’s eyes) out with a grapefruit knife, he notices the cucks and snowflakes giving him nastier looks than usual.  “You might want to check your e-mail,” that fat slut two cubicles down tells him, a sneer on her pale blobby face.

It turns out his second-least-favorite coworker, Mara Greenberg, sent all seventy-eight employees in the company, including him, the same e-mail.  RACIST, ANTI-SEMITIC BLOG FROM VPM EMPLOYEE, the subject line reads, all in caps.  “I’ve stumbled upon Sivell War, a blog from VPM employee Jeff Sivell.  After you read it, you might wish I hadn’t,” the Jewgirl writes, followed by a Web address that links to Jeff’s greatest literary-slash-sociopolitical achievement: his ongoing attempt to red-pill the sheeple about the lies that keep them poor, powerless, and pathetic.

Jeff stares at the e-mail.

“Eh,” he says, clicking on the link.  For the eight-zillionth time, he reads his latest Sivell War posting, which calls the Tree of Life synagogue shootings a hoax perpetrated by the Jews—or, as he put it, Jew$—to brainwash Americans into supporting gun control, if not the complete repeal of the Second Amendment.  And without any guns, true patriots will have a much more difficult time fighting their globalist banker pro-immigrant oppressors.

“Nice work, buddy, signing your real name to that crap,” Denton Breyers says, looking over Jeff’s shoulder.

“Fuck you,” Jeff says.

“You didn’t think anyone who worked here would read it?”

“I don’t care who reads it.  I’m not ashamed of what I write.”

“Of course not.”  Denton used to be the only person he could stand there, a true friend even, until Denton pussied out, softening his alt-right views to gain lamestream respectability.  “Though if the synagogue did stage a fake massacre, at least they could have hired better-known crisis actors, like, I dunno, the guy who played Screech on Saved by the Bell.   He could have stopped the evil gunman.  We Millennials would have loved that.”

“Yeah, well—”

Oh great.  Here comes their supervisor, Ms. Birch, a white woman they’d called Ms. Bitch even before finding out a dindu had knocked her up; she’d later married him and had a half-dindu daughter, hooray.  (Dindu: black, after what the alt-right considers that race’s favorite expression, Dindu nuffin’.)

“Hi,” Denton says sociably.

“Hi,” Ms. Bitch says more sociably.

“See you later, Jeff,” he says, walking away.  Yeah, a true friend, offering support.

“So, Chelsea, what’s up?” Jeff asks.

Ms. Bitch, somewhat less sociably: “May I have a word with you in my office?”

No wonder she’s his least-favorite coworker.  Since childhood, Jeff has hated having words with teachers, bosses, mental-health professionals, and other assholes who have made his life miserable.

#

Ms. Bitch sits at her desk.  Jeff sits across from her.  A giant blue die-cut dolphin, facing to the right, hangs on the wall behind her, above a couple framed full-color photos of her riding an actual dolphin in Cancún—yes, in that glorious wonderland of rapists and drug kingpins, Mexico.

“Is this your blog?” Ms. Bitch asks, her laptop screen facing Jeff.

No response.

“Is it?  Yes or no.”

“Yes.”

“And these are your opinions posted here?”

“It looks that way.”

“Uh-huh.”  She turns the laptop back around.  Her eyes widen and laser-focus on him.  “We have a diverse workplace here.  And because of that, all employees must abide by our Code of Conduct, which forbids language or behavior that—”

Jeff wonders if she’s read his blog entry from two months ago, where he posted a meme that showed a photo of an alligator, jaws open, with the caption BLACK LIVES MATTER…WHEN YOU NEED GATOR BAIT.  Among ten zillion other dindu-related postings of his.

“—particularly about the Tree of Life shootings,” Ms. Bitch says.  “Which means we have to let you go, effective immediately.”

No response.

“Did you hear me, Jeff?”

“Yeah.  You’re really firing me?”

“Letting you go, yes.”

“Well, then fine—I’ll just sue you and your company for violating my free-speech rights.”

“That’s your prerogative.”  She removes something from inside a manila folder.    “And this is your formal letter of termination.  Please read it carefully and sign it.”

Jeff does both.  Knocking out her teeth, what he really wants to do, wouldn’t go over well at trial, when he does sue her.  If the non-Jewi$h lawyer he plans to hire doesn’t fuck up, Jeff could win a seven- or eight-figure settlement and pay off those student loans well before turning sixty.

#

Chelsea Birch, breastfeeding her baby that night: “So as I was watching der Führer carry out his stuff in a box, that Beyoncé song ‘Irreplaceable’ started running through my head.  You know, when she kicks her guy out of the house and says ‘To the left, to the left / everything you own in the box to the left.’ ”

Kevin Dale, her husband: “Yeah, Jeff seems like a Beyoncé fan.”  Five seconds later: “I almost hate to bring this up, but you mentioned der Führer, so—it’s about Auschwitz.”

“What about Auschwitz?”

“Well, when the new prisoners would arrive, if the Nazi official in charge pointed to the left, they went to the showers.  And if he pointed to the right, they went to work as slaves.  So you could say the Nazis invented that swipe left, swipe right business.”

“Uh, okay.”

“Sorry if I depressed you.”

“No, no, that’s okay.”

“I don’t mean to imply Tinder has any connection to Nazis.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“And I definitely don’t mean to imply Beyoncé’s a Nazi, either.”

“Again, I didn’t think so.”

Kevin is left-handed.  He met Chelsea on OkCupid.

 

Copyright © 2018 by David V. Matthews

revised December 23, 2018, and February 1, 2019

Crisis Actors

SIVELL WAR
A Blog by Jeff Sivell

Monday, October 29, 2018
The Tree of Life shootings in Mr. Roger’s [sic] town on Saturday were as real as the Neighborhood of Make Believe, no doubt about it.  President Ku$hner must really want gun control.  The 11 crisis actors playing the ventilated Jew$ did such a good job, they’ll probably appear in the next $pielberg flick.  Then—

“I read your post today,” Denton said.

“And?” Jeff asked.  They stood outside their office building, vaping.

“Congratulations, dude.  You’ve officially gone insane.”

“Why, because I told the truth?”

“That’s what you call it?”

“Yeah.  Sorry it’s not all pretty and comforting.  Sometimes the optics have to look bad.  In fact, screw your optics, ha ha ha.  Then go screw your buddies in the alt-lite”—what some far-rightists derisively call the alt-right.

“At least people take me seriously.  You believe in that Nazi shit.  In case you didn’t know, the Nazis lost World War Two.  I like winners.”

“They are winners, Rabbi.  Their philosophy has reshaped American political culture for the better.  Now the cucks and snowflakes have to—”

Zoning out, Denton puffed on his e-cig.  Mmm, menthol blast, his favorite flavor.

Copyright © 2018 by David V. Matthews

 

The Whole Cake

The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette promised me it would print the following letter but never did.

October 7, 2018

To the Editor:

Despite controlling all three branches of government, the majority of governorships and statehouses, and the mass media, right-wing Republicans (as if any other kind exists) never tire of depicting themselves as powerless victims of a vast left-wing Democratic conspiracy.  Brett Kavanaugh, for instance, complained about the “calculated and orchestrated political hit” directed against him, a hit involving “revenge on behalf of the Clintons and millions of dollars in money from outside left-wing opposition groups.”

Those unnamed, pro-Bill and Hillary opposition groups must not have spent wisely.  Or maybe they had no serious intention of stopping him.

The Democrats—a centrist-right, neoliberal party since the Bill Clinton era, but Marxists when compared to the GOP then and now—have much in common with the anti-worker, anti-abortion Kavanaugh.  If Hillary had truly cared about supporting the non-rich, she would have done so running in 2016 instead of accepting tens of millions of dollars in corporate campaign donations.  Of course, if she had won in the Electoral College, she might have ended up giving the non-rich a few crumbs but the rich the whole cake; major donors usually expect something major in return from candidates they help elect.

Also note how little, if any, support she and almost every other mainstream Democrat have offered for reproductive rights, civil rights, voting rights, demilitarization, drug legalization, and other progressive causes.  The upper class, which controls both main parties, has zero interest in changing the status quo, considering how well the military-industrial and prison-industrial complexes have done over the past few decades.  Plus that class could afford the best in illegal abortions post-Roe v. Wade.

In short, Justice Kavanaugh and his right-wing buddies on the Supreme Court will help the #Resistance grow even wealthier, but at least the Resisters, unlike the Republicans, drive hybrids and never publicly trash racial minorities.

David V. Matthews