Sex Diary: A PMC (Professional Managerial Class) NPC (Non Player Character) scheduling sex with his partner while getting off on moral superiority
Yuri's first fiction piece: A sex diary written by a PMC (Professional Managerial Class) NPC (Non Player Character)
Comrades: I have written all 100+ of this Substack’s posts from my own perspective on nonfiction events. Today, I shall publish a the first-ever fiction from a satirical first-person perspective.
During the short period I was single in my 20s and read normie magazines, I found New York Magazine’s sex diaries entertaining. They would publish an anonymous person’s anticipation of and participation in sexual activity over the course of a week. “The Married Mom having Sex on her Friend’s Bachelorette Trip” is a fine example. Here’s an excerpt:
42, married, New York
9 p.m. We’re at a club and I’m drunk. I’m dancing with much, MUCH younger men and no one is really doing it for me but I’m definitely letting loose and grinding on them and feeling super sexy. One of the girls had her boyfriend and his friends meet us. When they arrive, I immediately spot the guy I want to have sex with, F. He looks like Clive Owen, who has always been my biggest Hollywood crush. F is reserved and not going to grind on the dance floor, but we start talking at our table, and he makes me a very good drink, and I literally want to sit on his face just because he’s so hot and perfect-for-me.
***REQUEST: Joe Rogan discussed Yuri Bezmenov on his recent podcast with Dave Smith at the 1hr 44min mark. It would be incredible if you could help me get this samizdat in front of him. Tweet link here.
In this post, I will publish a sex diary from the perspective of a PMC (Professional Managerial Class) NPC (Non Player Character) living in Karenland FUPAZ. If any of today’s fiction sounds like people you know, please note the South Park disclaimer:
39, in a domestic partnership, New York
Monday
8AM: I open my eyes after falling asleep to Last Week Tonight with John Oliver, my Sunday night ritual. He had such a funny segment taking down Drumpf. I had a nightmare about Orange Man winning the next election while wearing an Orange Jumpsuit, then strangely woke up with an erection. My partner and I haven’t had sex in months, but we scheduled time on our calendars for Friday night. Look forward to circling back!
9AM: I listen to Pod Save America while riding the subway to work. Oh how I miss Obama and Jon Favreau. An unhoused person appears to be masturbating, which causes many people to move to different subway car. I stay because I have compassion for this oppressed BIPOC; it’s not his fault that he has lived in a structurally racist society since 1619. His cum hits my organic leather Carhatt bag, which should patina nicely. Crime is down, despite what the Republicans and Faux News say. New York City has a brand. We’re New York tough!
1PM: After a tough morning of Zoom meetings, Slacking, and writing e-mails, I have a soy latte with an intern. I show her the two Ivy League diplomas hanging in my office. She seems impressed - I think she may have flirted with me. I love it when the mentees I groom like my LinkedIn posts. If she continues to raise her ESG score, she’ll follow in my footsteps as a Rhodes Scholar, Forbes 30 Under 30, and WEF Young Global Shaper.
5PM: I head home after wrapping up my ESG/DEI report. The CEO of the Fortune 500 company I work for started using pronouns on his LinkedIn and e-mail signature. He donated millions to Biden and won’t work with customers who drill oil or don’t have diverse boards. My heart is full that he has joined the resistance against fascism. It feels incredible to do well and do good.
9PM: While riding my Peloton, I check my receding hairline in the mirror. Why isn’t the vegan diet helping? Maybe I should have more of the sustainable cricket protein powder that Arianna Huffington recommended.
Tuesday
6AM: I catch a flight to attend a climate change conference. The guy sitting next to me in first class hits on the flight attendant and takes over our shared armrest. I am disgusted by his toxic masculinity and manspreading.
1PM: I mingle with old flames from my previous stints at NGOs and universities. It’s so sad that kids like Greta have to fight for climate justice. I’m glad the public-private partnerships we’re working on can help save the planet for her. The UN Sustainable Development Goals must be fulfilled at any cost because it’s for the peasants’ own good. I bask in the applause after our panel about replacing the Ten Commandments with the SDGs. None of us were elected, but we coordinate to effect change that government alone can’t accomplish. This is what democracy looks like!
9PM: After a long day of hot air about hot air and carbon, I am exhausted. AOC’s latest Instagram reel about cow farts gets me aroused. I masturbate to hentai tentacle porn before going to sleep. It’s the most ethical form of porn because it doesn’t involve real people.
Wednesday
8PM: I arrive home from the conference and catch up on e-mails. I have been secretly reading a new blogging site called “Substack”. A MAGAt I know has posted mean memes about universities and corporations there. What a bigot! I write a note to the CEO of Substack, imploring him to censor all the right-wing disinformation that is spreading like a virus. So glad Tucker got de-platformed. Anyone who opposes war is a Russian puppet - slava Ukraini! Sex will never feel as good as being on the right side of history.
10PM: After several hours of scrolling through Twitter while watching Netflix, my partner and I try to have spontaneous sex. I can’t get it up because we’re both so tired from everything that’s going on in the world. My mom calls, but I refuse to talk to her because she never got vaccinated.
Thursday
7PM: While walking our dog Mayor Pete, my partner gets catcalled. This started happening often after the city moved asylum seekers into a hotel down the street from our apartment. It’s part of Latinx culture, which we should respect. I am glad that my neighborhood continues to receive such cultural enrichment. Diversity is our greatest strength!
8PM: My Black doorman (I think his name is Corn Pop) says he doesn’t like the new migrants because he claims they are dealing drugs and stabbing people. The New York Times and CNN have not reported on any of this, so it’s definitely a conspiracy theory that’s not happening. It’s unfortunate to see him spout white supremacist talking points and misinformation from the New York Post.
9PM: My partner has volunteered to teach English classes and provide legal support to unaccompanied minors at the hotel. Jose, Carlos, and Esteban are 11 but are taller than me already. It must be all the nutritious American food we’re feeding them. She stays overnight on another cram session to help them on their path to citizenship. Jose will become a doctor, Carlos an engineer, and Esteban will soon become a father because he impregnated a birthing person migrant. They call me “puta el cornudo” as an affectionate nickname. My Spanish is rusty since we stopped our annual Tulum trip post COVID, but I’m pretty sure it means cool hombre. I hope all of their extended families will be able to move here soon, so we can have more delicious taco trucks. Abolish ICE!
Friday
6PM: My partner texts me that she’s staying out late with her co-workers after their happy hour. I am disappointed we’re skipping sex again, but glad she is advancing her career and socializing with her colleagues. Her boss Chad seems like a great guy. He texts her all the time to mentor her, even after they’ve spent long nights at the office working hard on special projects.
7PM: As I wait for her to come home, I smoke weed and sip IPAs. I spend a few hours playing my favorite video game, Sportsball 2K23, where I win the Super Bowl with my hero Colin Kaepernick as quarterback. I pass out on the couch, not sure when she gets home.
Saturday:
3AM: I am awoken by loud music from the street. Groups of vibrant youths are twerking on the hoods of their cars. Looks fun! I raise my fist to them and shout, “No justice, no peace!” in solidarity. Then I put on my earplugs to try to go back to sleep. Our windows are still cracked after a rock hit them during the George Floyd peaceful protests. We taped it over with a BLM sign to show our support.
11AM: My partner and I attend a BLM/Antifa counter-protest at Planned Parenthood. We need to protect bleeders and trans youth. Last year, we used this clinic to get an abortion. I also got a vasectomy to make sure that I will never contribute to climate change through the additional carbon emissions my child would produce. Christo-fascist nuns are praying outside the clinic. We yell at them through our bullhorns and call the police to report stochastic violence, but they take forever to arrive and don’t make any arrests. Hope the pigs get defunded! I escalate the issue to my friends at the FBI and IRS so they can put the nuns and the church on watch lists.
Sunday:
9AM: My partner and I role play the COVID days because we miss them. We double mask, cuddle with her as the big spoon, and watch re-runs of Rachel Maddow, Chris Hayes, and Stephen Colbert. They are national treasures. We inject each other with needles to simulate the orgasmic feeling of keeping people safe and following the science. If only everyone would do the reading, keep getting boosters, give up their guns, stop driving cars, and stop eating meat, we’d have utopia.
9PM: We settle into bed for John Oliver’s new episode about how Ron DeSantis and Elon Musk are literally worse than Trump and Hitler. I’m looking forward to summer at my parents’ place in Martha’s Vineyard, but Jose can’t come because we don’t have the resources there. As I drift off, I am comforted that the Biden-Harris administration is making so much progress…
You forgot the part where he gets a semi flaccid boner from celebrating women aborting babies in the third term, and where he throws dollar bills at a "Trans" child dancing like a stripper at an outdoor Democratic fundraiser.
LOOKING FORWARD TO CIRCLING BACK