Live From The Dumpster Fire

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In an unhinged Bluesky manifesto, La Dame d’Azur (she/her), a self-proclaimed authority on labor exploitation, has boldly declared that sex work is not just exploitative—it’s more exploitative than her job in a warehouse. Because, apparently, stocking boxes under fluorescent lighting is the moral high ground compared to setting your own hours and rates.

Armed with half-baked arguments and a stunning misunderstanding of what sex work entails, La Dame has positioned herself as the voice of the downtrodden. Unfortunately, that voice sounds a lot like an Amazon manager trying to justify bathroom timers.

“Warehouse Workers: Exploited, But With Dignity (Or Something)”

She begins her case with the claim that warehouse work involves her labor being exploited, but at least her body isn’t commodified. Meanwhile, in sex work, she argues, the worker is the commodity. What she fails to grasp is that sex work, like warehouse work, involves selling a service—not one’s entire being. A sex worker isn’t handing over their body like a discounted flat-screen TV; they’re providing time, labor, and often emotional energy.

And here’s the kicker: sex workers often have more autonomy than she ever will. They choose their clients, set their prices, and decide their schedules—luxuries La Dame can only dream of while sprinting to hit her productivity quota.

“Consent: Real for Me, Hypothetical for You”

The pièce de résistance of her thread is the claim that sex work can’t be consensual because of “material incentives.” By this logic, no job is consensual. After all, don’t warehouse workers also work because they need money to survive? Isn’t that the same “coercion” she’s projecting onto sex workers? Congrats, La Dame—you’ve accidentally argued that all capitalism is exploitative. A+ for self-awareness.

But here’s the rub: sex work often reduces exploitation by giving workers autonomy over their labor. While La Dame is stuck in a system where her boss dictates her every move, sex workers operate independently or negotiate the terms of their employment. So who’s really being coerced here?

“Sex Work Is Like a Sports Car, Apparently”

In a truly baffling metaphor, La Dame compares sex work to luxury sports cars, describing it as a “privileged” profession akin to a shiny status symbol. Someone tell the single moms paying rent with OnlyFans subscriptions that they’re living the high life. Meanwhile, public transit (or, in this case, warehouse work) is positioned as the humble moral choice for the masses.

This might be the first time in history someone has tried to compare survival work to a Ferrari, but hey, it’s 2024—anything’s possible.

“Rape and Fetishization: Bold Claims, No Research”

Things take a darker turn when La Dame argues that sex work inherently promotes violence, misogyny, and fetishization of minorities. While these issues exist in some corners of the industry, blaming sex work itself is like blaming forklifts for union-busting. These problems stem from systemic inequalities, not the nature of the job. But sure, let’s ignore those nuances and instead demonize a profession she clearly doesn’t understand.

“Final Thought: When You’re in a Warehouse, Stay in Your Lane”

La Dame d’Azur seems to think that by tearing down sex work, she’s highlighting the injustices of her own profession. Instead, she’s only revealed her inability to grasp nuance—or basic economics. Both sex work and warehouse labor exist under the same exploitative capitalist framework. The difference? Sex work often provides financial independence, while warehouse jobs provide pee bottles.

If La Dame really cared about exploitation, she’d focus on dismantling the systems that oppress all workers, rather than punching down at people who’ve found their own paths to autonomy. But until then, maybe she should clock back in and leave the hot takes to someone who’s done their homework.

In a groundbreaking display of mental gymnastics that would leave even Simone Biles in awe, a new coalition of moral purists and faux-progressives have united to take bold, uninformed stances on sex work—a subject they know absolutely nothing about. Armed with ignorance and a pathological need to control women’s choices, these critics have declared sex work “not empowering” while simultaneously fetishizing minimum wage exploitation, drunk bar hook-ups, and the hollow sanctity of transactional marriage.

To these folks, the argument is simple: If you’re a sex worker making the deliberate, sober choice to charge for your time and energy—whether it’s intellectual, emotional, or physical labor—you’re a pawn in some mythical patriarchy. But if you’re Becky downing two shitty vodka cranberries at the dive bar because Greg kind of looks like her type under the neon light, you’re a feminist icon.

Let’s talk about Greg, shall we? Greg thinks $20 worth of well drinks entitles him to at least six hours of your life and maybe a halfhearted round of bad sex in his crusty twin bed. And the critics? They’re cool with this! Coercion? Never heard of her. Empowerment, they claim, is letting social norms guilt you into performing intimacy for the price of two drinks and a “You’re so hot” whispered into your ear over Nickelback on the jukebox.

Meanwhile, sex workers—who have the audacity to charge rent money for the same experience (minus the shitty playlist)—are the enemy? Sorry, but if Becky deserves a crown for enduring Greg’s whiskey breath for free, sex workers should be canonized.

And then there’s the marriage worship. According to these critics, sex work isn’t real work, but sex as a bargaining chip for handbags, spa trips, and minivans is the highest form of empowerment. Sure, Karen. Tell me more about how wifely duty isn’t transactional when you’re negotiating bedtime favors in exchange for the latest Prada. Financial domination? More like financial delusion. The irony? When these Stepford wives find themselves divorced, penniless, and crawling back into the workforce, many turn to—wait for it—sex work to survive. Oh, but that’s not empowering either, right?

But the hypocrisy doesn’t stop there. The faux-allies come in hot with their slogans: Support all women! Sex work is work! Until they don’t like someone. Then, suddenly, the vocabulary expands to “whore,” “hooker,” and “slut” as their insults of choice. Melania Trump? A prostitute, apparently. Why call out her actual actions when you can just slut-shame her? Nothing screams feminist like weaponizing sex work as an insult.

And here’s the kicker: these people claim to be “inclusive” while dragging sex workers through the mud. You support women, but only if they’re following your script? Inclusive, but not when a woman owns her body and demands compensation for her time? That’s like saying you’re a vegan except when you’re eating bacon. You’re not progressive; you’re just a walking contradiction in a Forever 21 cardigan.

Meanwhile, the actual villains of society—Andrew Tate, Elon Musk, Alex Jones, Jesse Singal, religious cult leaders—get a pass. Dragging them requires effort and nuance, and it’s just so much easier to kick a sex worker while wearing your “Empathy Matters” pin.

So here’s the deal: stop pretending coercion at the bar, wage slavery, or hollow suburban marriages are empowering just because they don’t have “sex work” on the label. And for the love of all that’s holy, find some new insults. Or better yet, direct your misplaced rage toward someone who deserves it, like flat earthers or crypto bros.

Until then,keep your opinions on sex work to yourself. Because no one asked for them, and quite frankly, we’re all dumber for having heard them.

Kthxbye forever.

So, here’s the Nordic Model in a nutshell: “We’re not going to punish you, the sex worker—oh no, we’re enlightened! We’re just going to punish the people paying you so you can’t make a living. See? Progress!” Genius, right? It’s like saying, “We didn’t outlaw restaurants, we just made it illegal to order food. Enjoy the empowerment.”

The big idea here is that if you make it impossible for people to pay for sex, sex workers will just… poof! disappear into a magical world where they don’t need rent money or groceries. It’s flawless logic—if you’ve never spoken to an actual sex worker or, you know, been alive.

And of course, this plan was cooked up by the real experts on sex work: politicians, college professors, and a handful of pearl-clutching activists who think all sex workers are just damsels waiting to be rescued. These are the same people who mix up consensual sex work and trafficking like they’re reading off a menu: “Hmm, let’s go with the ‘all sex is exploitation’ special and a side of ‘ban everything.’”

And the cherry on top? They’ll tell you it’s all about “protecting women.” Yeah, because nothing screams “protection” like scaring off decent clients and leaving sex workers to deal with the desperate creeps who don’t care about getting caught. Brilliant. Now we’re not just working—we’re auditioning for the next episode of Law & Order: SVU.

But hey, they’re not criminalizing sex workers, right? No, no, they’d never do that. Instead, they just criminalize every single thing around the work until it’s so dangerous and exhausting you have no choice but to quit or die trying. It’s like saying, “We’re not banning music, we’re just banning instruments, concerts, and anyone who claps. Enjoy your freedom!”

What’s wild is that everyone pushing this nonsense loves to claim it’s about “fighting for justice!” Oh, sure, because justice is definitely when people who know absolutely nothing about your life decide what’s best for you. It’s always someone in a cardigan, clutching a latte, confidently saying, “This will empower them.” Empower us? Lady, I just want to get paid without someone calling the cops!

And let’s talk about who this really helps: politicians who want to look progressive without lifting a finger to actually do something. These are the same people who won’t even give us universal healthcare but suddenly really care about our safety when it means they can slap a trendy “Nordic” sticker on their bad ideas.

Here’s the kicker: if they actually cared about us, they’d push for decriminalization. You know, the thing that makes the work safer, holds everyone accountable, and doesn’t involve throwing sex workers under the bus. But no! That would mean admitting sex work is real work, and apparently, that’s too much truth for people who think a vibrator is contraband.

Instead, they stick with the Nordic Model: half-assed, condescending, and just dangerous enough to ruin lives while letting everyone involved shrug and say, “Well, we tried!” No, you didn’t. You just made things worse and called it progress.

So, here we are: stuck with policies written by people who wouldn’t know a sex worker if one handed them a laminated business card. And they’ll keep patting themselves on the back while we’re out here dodging sketchy clients, overzealous cops, and rent deadlines. Thanks for nothing, Karen.

You know what? Just stop. If you’re not going to actually help, at least have the decency to leave us alone. And maybe take your Nordic Model and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine—preferably somewhere past the Arctic Circle.

So here’s the deal: sex work? Totally illegal in a lot of places. But sugar daddies? All good, bro! Porn? Absolutely, dude! And don’t even get us started on OnlyFans. Apparently, if there’s a ring light and a credit card involved, you’re just a hardworking *content creator*. But two people meeting in private and exchanging cash for a little consensual fun? How dare you! You criminal!

I mean, how do you even make these rules? It's like saying, "Hey, you can totally drive a car, but only if you’re live-streaming it for everyone to see. Otherwise? ILLEGAL."

And speaking of absolutely brilliant societal takes, let’s not forget this little gem from @darlingube on Twitter. You know, the type of person who graces the internet with a hot take and thinks it’ll singlehandedly fix centuries of societal complexity. She bravely tweets, “Sex ‘work’ is just rape and it needs to be abolished, not embraced.” Well damn, @darlingube, thanks for solving that one!

Clearly, all those sex workers advocating for rights, safety, and autonomy have been wasting their time. Who needs nuanced debates when you’ve got random Twitter warriors ready to drop 240-character truth bombs? Let’s just abolish everything because a single tweet said so! I guess next we’ll solve climate change by asking people to stop breathing, right?

But seriously, folks, what’s more fun than ignoring real-world conversations, especially when they don’t affect you? It’s like watching a dog try to drive a car—it’s not helping anyone, but it’s damn entertaining.

Sugar Daddies: The Rich Man’s Hall Pass for Transactional Relationships

Alright, let’s talk about sugar daddies. You know, those guys who buy younger women designer purses, vacations, and just...fund their entire life. But don't call it what it is, no, no. Call it "mentorship." It’s wholesome! I mean, if you slap a price tag on romance and wrap it up in a gold-dipped box, suddenly it’s totally cool.

"Oh, Mr. Goldstein pays my rent and gives me $10k a month? It’s not about the money, it’s about the *connection*."

But two people deciding, "Hey, let’s keep it simple: you pay me, I give you what you want," and suddenly society’s clutching its pearls. Like, seriously, as long as there’s no Gucci bag involved, we’re all gonna act like it’s scandalous?

Porn: If There’s a Camera, It’s Art. No Camera? PRISON.

Now, on to porn. Porn’s fine, right? Hell, it’s practically encouraged. You get some decent lighting, add a weird script about the pizza guy, and boom! Suddenly, you’re making cinema. Congrats, you’re a filmmaker!

But take away the camera, and now it’s like, "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Did someone just have sex without putting it on the internet? LOCK ‘EM UP!" It’s the same damn thing, people! Just because there’s no 4K footage doesn’t mean the transaction suddenly turns evil.

You’re telling me that filming two people going at it makes it perfectly okay, but once it’s off-screen, now it’s a crime? What is this logic, man? This is like saying, "Hey, you can sell burgers, but only if you’re filming yourself doing it, otherwise it’s black-market meat."

OnlyFans: From Sex Worker to Influencer—Just Add Wi-Fi!

And then we’ve got OnlyFans. Apparently, when you charge dudes money to see your naked pictures online, you’re not a sex worker anymore. Nah, you’re an entrepreneur. We’re talking girl boss energy! Suddenly you’re “monetizing your brand.” Yeah, you’ve got a brand now. Look at you, you’re practically a tech start-up! Honestly, no shade, get that bag!

Meanwhile, if you do the same thing in person without a website? BOOM, welcome to jail, you filthy degenerate.

So, basically, as long as there’s a URL involved, society’s totally cool with it. But if you skip the middleman and just go face-to-face? Whoa, hold up there, buddy, you’re a criminal. Like, how much of a hard-on does the government have for PayPal getting a cut of everything?

Empowerment... Brought to You by People Who’ve Never Been Empowered a Day in Their Lives!

Now here’s the kicker: all these anti-sex work crusaders love to tell you how it’s not empowering. Oh really? Tell me more about what’s empowering, Karen, while you sip your latte in a cubicle and pretend you’re happy with that participation trophy they gave you for “Employee of the Month” last year. You think grinding away for 40 hours a week, barely scraping by, is “empowering”?

Yeah, because nothing screams empowerment like doing someone else’s work, getting passed over for promotions, and then spending half your paycheck on taxes for roads that still have potholes the size of Danny DeVito. Oh yeah, Karen, your life sounds awesome.

Meanwhile, there are people out here in the sex industry, making bank, working their own hours, choosing their clients, and living their best life—and you’re telling them that’s not empowering? Get the fuck outta here.

Real Empowerment: Spoiler, It's Not Your Crappy Job

Let’s break it down. Real empowerment is about control. You know, being in charge of your time, your money, and what you do with your body. Not sitting in a cubicle for 40 hours a week, hoping that maybe your boss will throw you a bone with a 2% raise, all while you cry in the bathroom because the company potluck ran out of chips before you got any. That’s not empowerment. That’s just a slow-motion death march.

People in sex work? They’re the ones running the show. They’re not answering to Steve in HR about how their skirt is “unprofessional.” They’re not stuck in back-to-back Zoom meetings while their soul slowly evaporates. They’re making their own rules. And you’re saying that’s not empowering? Dude, they’ve got more control over their life than most of you ever will.

The Hypocrisy is Hilarious... If It Weren’t So Stupid

At the end of the day, the hypocrisy here is just...chef’s kiss. It’s mind-blowing. We’re fine with sugar daddies. We’re fine with porn. We’re fine with OnlyFans. But good old-fashioned sex work? No way, man! That’s where society draws the line.

Like, seriously? This is where we are now? In a world where it’s okay as long as you throw in some designer shoes or have a ring light. And you know what? It’s hilarious. Because the people in the sex industry, the ones everyone pretends to be offended by? They’re the most honest workers out there. At least they know the deal. They know it’s transactional. Unlike your boss, who’s definitely screwing you over...but without the honesty.

So here’s to all the sex workers, sugar babies, porn stars, and OnlyFans creators out there. You figured it out. You cracked the code. You’re playing by the rules, but you’re making your own game. And if people can’t handle that? Well, maybe they should stop pretending they’re not watching.

In a dazzling display of societal irony, we explore the curious case of civilian women who, with cocktails in hand, freely cast judgment upon sex workers. These paragons of virtue, teetering on their stilettos and slurring their words, vehemently insist that escorts are the epitome of moral decay. Meanwhile, they find themselves entangled in romantic escapades with local barflies because, well, free drinks don’t come cheap.

"Escorts? Ew, So Dirty and Gross!"

Picture this: a civilian woman, freshly coiffed and doused in enough perfume to sedate a rhino, stands at the bar, scrutinizing the "dirty and gross" lifestyle of a sex worker. "She charges by the hour? That makes her a whore!" she exclaims, right before accepting a vodka cranberry from a guy named Chad who looks like he hasn’t showered since the last full moon.

The hypocrisy is palpable. Here’s a woman who is willing to bed a stranger after a couple of cocktails, judging a professional who screens her clients, ensures her safety, and walks away with $500 an hour. It’s like criticizing a Michelin-starred chef while you’re eating instant ramen.

"Who’s the Real Smart One?"

Let’s break it down. Our bar-crawling heroine meets Chad, the local loser who lives in his mom’s basement and wears the same cologne he’s had since high school. He buys her two drinks, and suddenly, she’s ready to head home with him. Because nothing says "I have standards" like letting a guy who spent $10 on you see you naked.

Meanwhile, the escort is living her best life. She charges a cool $500 plus an hour, screens her clients to ensure they’re not serial killers, and, oh yes, she can still get that drink if she wants one. Except she’s not drunk. She’s in control, fully aware, and remembers to use condoms—something our civilian friend might struggle with after those two vodka cranberries.

"Moral High Ground or Drunken Stumble?"

The civilian woman stands tall (well, wobbles, really) on her moral high ground, all while staggering back to Chad’s questionable car. She can’t fathom how someone could "sell their body" for money, yet here she is, effectively doing the same for the price of a well drink. Who’s the real smart one here?

Our escort is a businesswoman. She’s professional, organized, and financially savvy. She understands that her time and body have value. She negotiates her terms, maintains her safety, and earns more in an hour than Chad will in a month. And yet, society paints her as the villain while the civilian woman stumbles into her one-night stand, judgment in tow.

Conclusion: The Irony Parade Continues

So, to all the civilian women out there, propped up by free drinks and shaky double standards, we salute your audacity. Your judgment is as flawed as your choice in bar companions. In the grand theater of life, you play the role of the oblivious critic, blissfully unaware of the irony dripping from your every word.

To the escorts, we raise a glass (one we paid for ourselves) in admiration. Your professionalism, control, and financial acumen are a testament to your intelligence and strength. And to Chad—well, we hope you find a new cologne.

In the ever-entertaining world of male entitlement, we introduce you to a truly remarkable specimen: the Average Male Client. This modern-day Casanova, blessed with the self-awareness of a goldfish, believes he deserves a hefty discount when hiring an escort. Why, you ask? Because he's just that special. Buckle up for a wild ride through the mind of a man convinced his mere existence is payment enough.

“I Should Get a Discount Because I’m Very Attractive”

Meet our protagonist, the Average Male Client. With a confidence that could power a small country, he strides into the world of professional companionship, utterly convinced that his chiseled good looks should automatically slash prices. After all, any woman would be thrilled to be with him, right?

"Any woman would be happy to be with me," he announces, with a level of self-assurance typically reserved for superheroes and lottery winners. Never mind that the escort he’s eyeing is a solid ten while he hovers generously around a four on a very good day—he’s convinced she should be paying him for the privilege of his company.

“What If I Take You to McDonald’s?”

But wait, there's more! Our charming gentleman isn’t just about superficial looks. No, he’s ready to sweeten the deal with a romantic gesture straight out of a fairy tale. "What if I take you to get McDonald’s after I give you the best sex of your life?" he proposes, mistaking fast food for fine dining and his bedroom prowess for something worth its weight in gold.

Surely, a Big Mac and fries are equivalent to cash, right? In his mind, this offer is a win-win, a testament to his generosity and culinary sophistication. Because nothing says "I value your time and services" quite like a Happy Meal.

“We Can’t Call It Even?”

As negotiations continue, our hero’s bewilderment grows. "You really want me to pay?" he asks, genuinely puzzled. Isn’t his company payment enough? He’s already sacrificing his valuable time and unmatched attractiveness; surely, financial compensation is a bit much to ask for.

“How Often Has an Attractive, Rich, and Successful Man Like Me Shown You Any Attention?”

Finally, he plays his trump card. "How often has an attractive, rich, and successful man like me shown you any attention?" he inquires, confident that his rare blend of imaginary wealth, dubious success, and questionable charm is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

In his world, escorts should be grateful, nay, honored to be graced by his presence. The mere fact that he has chosen to spend time with them should suffice. Money? That’s for mere mortals who don’t possess his genetic gifts and staggering self-importance.

Conclusion: The Entitlement Continues

And so, the Average Male Client marches on, blissfully unaware of the absurdity of his demands. His quest for discounted companionship is a testament to the enduring power of delusion and the human capacity for self-deception.

In the grand theatre of life, he plays the role of the oblivious suitor, ever convinced that his attractiveness is a currency more valuable than gold. And as long as there are McDonald’s coupons to be had and mirrors to admire himself in, his journey will continue.

To the escorts who encounter this rare breed, we salute you. Your patience and professionalism in the face of such unbridled entitlement are truly commendable. And to the Average Male Client, we wish you the best of luck—because you’re going to need it.

In a world brimming with unsung heroes, let’s raise a glass to the married civilian white women who, from the safety of their suburban fortresses, have taken it upon themselves to save the sex workers of the world. 

These noble warriors, armed with nothing but secondhand stories and profound ignorance, are convinced that no woman could possibly choose sex work willingly. After all, why would anyone enjoy a job that isn’t painstakingly dull and underpaid?

"The Eternal Victims: A Tale as Old as Time"

Picture this: Karen from the cul-de-sac, sipping her third glass of chardonnay, shaking her head in disbelief at the very thought that a woman might actually enjoy sex work. 

"They must be trafficked," she asserts, her voice dripping with the kind of certainty only a complete lack of experience can provide. "Or abused. Or molested. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be a stay-at-home mom who uses sex to get a new kitchen island?"

The irony here is thicker than Karen’s double-glazed windows. While she clutches her pearls at the notion of consensual sex work, she doesn’t bat an eye at the transactional nature of her own marriage. "Honey, if you buy me that new SUV, I might consider a special treat tonight," she coos to her husband, blissfully unaware of the parallels.

"Profound Wisdom from the PTA Meeting"

These suburban saviors base their profound insights on the sex industry from the most reliable sources: whispers at the PTA meeting, a friend’s bad experience, or that one Lifetime movie they half-watched while folding laundry.
"My friend’s sister’s neighbor was a stripper once, and she said it was terrible," Karen continues. "Therefore, it must be terrible for everyone. Trust me, I’m practically an expert."

What they lack in actual knowledge, they make up for in righteous indignation. These women are convinced that by demonizing sex work, they are somehow advocating for the oppressed. Never mind that their “advocacy” often amounts to spreading misinformation and shaming those who dare to make their own choices.

"Sex Workers: The Unseen Advocates"

Meanwhile, the actual sex workers they claim to be so concerned about are rolling their eyes and getting on with their lives. Some of these women entered the industry because they enjoy it, relish the independence, and take pride in their work. But try explaining that to Karen, and you’ll be met with a look of horror usually reserved for discovering a wine stain on beige carpet.

Karen and her ilk can’t fathom that a woman might prefer the autonomy and earning potential of sex work over the so-called "security" of suburban life. "They must be deluded," Karen insists, while secretly envying their freedom and financial independence.

"Saving the World, One Misinformed Opinion at a Time"

In their quest to save sex workers from a fate worse than their own mundane existence, these civilian white women crusade tirelessly on Facebook and Nextdoor, spreading the gospel of secondhand horror stories. They congratulate themselves on their bravery, patting each other on the back for "raising awareness" without ever bothering to listen to the voices of those they claim to be saving.

Conclusion: The Crusade Continues

So here’s to the suburban saviors, the PTA prophets, and the Chardonnay crusaders. Your tireless efforts to misunderstand and misrepresent sex work are truly awe-inspiring. Your profound ignorance, wrapped in the guise of advocacy, continues to shine like a beacon of misplaced righteousness.

To the sex workers shaking their heads and carrying on: we salute you. Your resilience and independence are a testament to the strength of choosing your own path, despite the clamor of uninformed "advocates" trying to save you from yourselves.

In the end, Karen and her cohorts will continue their crusade, blissfully unaware of the irony of their own lives. And the world will keep spinning, one misinformed opinion at a time. Bravo, ladies. Bravo.

Ladies, ever been left hanging post-coitus while Mr. Wonderful snoozes away? Time to wake him up with some fabulously sarcastic flair! Here’s how:

1. The PowerPoint Plea:

Nothing says "I'm not done" like a 10-slide presentation. Use pie charts to illustrate his shortfalls and bar graphs to project your mounting frustration. Finish with a motivational quote: "An orgasm a day keeps the divorce lawyer away!"

2. Interpretive Dance Extravaganza:

Why not channel your inner Broadway star? Leap and twirl around the bedroom, emoting pure sexual frustration. Extra points for jazz hands and dramatic sobbing. He'll get the hint—or at least call for an encore.

3. The Cake Ultimatum:

Bake a cake with "FINISH ME" in bold, red icing. Serve it with a side of unamused glare. If he doesn't get it, at least you have dessert. And remember, revenge is sweet—literally.

4. Sock Puppet PSA:

Create a puppet show starring two discontented socks named "Unfulfilled Fiona" and "Desperate Dave." Let them act out your plight with exaggerated sighs and frustrated foot-stomping. Educational and absurdly entertaining!

5. The Formal Request:

Hand him a letter sealed with wax, demanding satisfaction. Use your best legalese: "Dear Sir, it has come to my attention that services rendered were incomplete. Immediate rectification is required. Sincerely, Your Seriously Dissatisfied Partner."

Remember, ladies, humor and creativity are 

your best tools. If he can’t take a hint, at least you’ll have a good laugh. Now go forth and claim what’s rightfully yours—one hilariously sarcastic tactic at a time!

In a triumph of legislative genius, Rep. Ann Wagner and Sen. Rob Portman proudly proclaim that their brainchild, FOSTA/SESTA, has miraculously eradicated sex trafficking. With a hearty high five and a self-satisfied grin, they bask in the glory of having saved countless lives. After all, who needs facts when you have feel-good legislation?

A Monumental Achievement in Illusion

FOSTA/SESTA, touted as the savior of the vulnerable, is hailed as a masterpiece of modern governance. "We’ve decreased sex trafficking!" Rep. Wagner declares, oblivious to the inconvenient truth that these bills have merely pushed trafficking further underground. Because nothing screams "success" like making it harder for police to find and rescue victims. 

Saving Lives by Removing Visibility

It’s not like law enforcement agencies were using ads on various platforms to identify and rescue trafficking victims. No, clearly, removing these platforms is the key to reducing trafficking. Out of sight, out of mind! If you can’t see the problem, it must not exist, right?

Sen. Portman beams with pride. "We’ve saved so many people!" he insists. "Just ignore the growing chorus of voices pointing out that providers are now more endangered than ever. We’ve made the world safer by making it more dangerous. Genius, right?"

The Glorious Misconception of Safety

The logic is flawless. By eliminating safe, visible platforms, FOSTA/SESTA has brilliantly ensured that sex workers must operate in the shadows, away from the prying eyes of law enforcement. Because obviously, when no one can find you, you’re perfectly safe. It’s like a twisted game of hide-and-seek where the seekers have their eyes closed and the hiders are left in peril.

"High five, Ann!" Rob exclaims. "We’ve really outdone ourselves this time. We’ve made sure that sex workers can no longer rely on online communities for support and safety. Instead, they get to navigate the dangerous streets in search of clients. What could possibly go wrong?

Trafficking at an All-Time Low! (In Our Imaginations)

"And to those who dare to criticize these bills," Wagner continues, "what do you mean people hate them and think they’re causing more harm than good? We’ve saved the children, just like we saved them by putting them in cages for crossing the border. Our track record is impeccable!"

Celebrating a Legacy of Unintended Consequences

The true brilliance of FOSTA/SESTA lies in its ability to create more problems while pretending to solve them. It’s legislative theater at its finest. By forcing sex work further underground, the bills have ensured that trafficking victims are harder to find, sex workers are more vulnerable, and everyone gets to feel good about doing absolutely nothing to address the real issues.

Conclusion: The Masterstroke of Misguided Policy

So here’s to Rep. Ann Wagner and Sen. Rob Portman, the masterminds behind FOSTA/SESTA. Their misguided policies have set a new standard for legislative ineptitude. They’ve managed to pat themselves on the back while ignoring the wreckage they’ve left in their wake.

In the grand tradition of political self-congratulation, they’ve declared victory where there is none. And as sex workers navigate their newfound peril, these champions of safety can rest easy, knowing they’ve made the world a far more dangerous place. Bravo!

In a shocking turn of events that no one (and I mean absolutely no one) saw coming, a new trend is sweeping the sex work industry, and it’s leaving both professionals and clients in absolute chaos.

Brace yourselves: Men who used to be awkward, cringe-inducing clients—the ones that sex workers reluctantly tolerated as they ignored boundaries and sent way too many “U up?” texts—are now rebranding themselves as male escorts catering solely to straight women. Yes, you read that right. The same men who, just months ago, were sliding into DMs with unsolicited opinions on why “all sex workers are whores,” have now transformed into self-declared exclusive escorts for women.

In the spirit of being woke, inclusive, and way too forgiving, the sex work community has unknowingly birthed a monster: incel trolls turned providers—but not the good kind.

The Rise of the Male Escort Troll

Let’s set the scene. You’ve just wrapped up a particularly grueling client session. You're exhausted, but content—until you get a DM from Adam, your client from last year who never stops commenting on your photos. He’s gone from calling you “sexy” in an embarrassing number of heart-eye emojis to straight-up telling you that he now charges $600/hour and caters only to “discerning ladies.”

The man who used to ask, "Why won’t you give me a discount?" is now trying to pass himself off as a full-fledged escort. Oh, and he’s using the same selfies he sent you before his first screening, except now they’re somehow even worse. No new angles, just the same mirror pic from his bathroom (you know, the one with suspicious stains on the wall behind him).

These men aren’t what you’d expect from professional male escorts. There’s no six-pack abs, no chiseled jawlines, and absolutely no sophisticated charm. Instead, they look like someone took the average Reddit commenter, threw in a bad attitude, and gave him a Tryst profile.

But the kicker? They’re not just offering “companionship” anymore—they’re doing it with the same selfie they’re still proudly using on Facebook, where, by the way, their wives are very much active. Yes, you heard me. These dudes are turning to sex work without even bothering to update their profile pics. And, ladies, they're ready to cater to your needs… at least until the wife notices.

When Woke Goes Too Far: "But Inclusivity!”

You see, it all started innocently enough. The sex work community, as progressive and inclusive as ever, wanted to be open-minded. They didn't want to gatekeep or judge anyone for stepping into the world of escorting. So when former clients-turned-wannabe-male-escorts started showing up, the response was initially, “Hey, you do you!” 

But maybe, just maybe, someone should have stopped to ask: “Um, wait… why does he have five roommates and no real mattress?”

In a world where sex workers are supposed to support each other, it was politically incorrect to point out that some of these new male escorts looked more like the guys who send unsolicited pics and whine about “nice guys finishing last” than like professionals charging $600 an hour. The woke sex worker community was so focused on being inclusive that they forgot to ask the most important question: Is this man even hot?

Answer: No. No, he is not.

The Ad Effect: It’s a Canon Event

Let’s talk about online ads, where these hobbyist clients are now rebranding themselves. You log in, expecting to see new providers worth considering or at least a headshot that wasn’t taken in 2008. But no. Instead, you’re greeted by the horrifying sight of Adam—the very client who once claimed “he didn’t need to pay for it” because he “had game”—now listing himself as a high-end male escort. He’s even recycled the same face-out selfie he sent you during screening a year ago, looking like an awkward middle-school yearbook photo but with the smug confidence of a man who just learned how to charge by the hour.

And the best part? He proudly sent you the link to his new profile, as if you’d be impressed by the tragic glow-up from “inexperienced client” to “inexperienced provider.” 

But what makes this all truly apocalyptic is the blind acceptance from the community. It’s a canon event, they say. You can’t interfere. Let him live his truth, right? Wrong.

We’re all sitting here, watching this catastrophe unfold, while internally screaming, “No, no, NO—this is NOT what we meant by inclusivity!” But the damage has already been done. The floodgates are open, and there’s no turning back.

The Real Consequences: Ruining the Game for Everyone

What does this mean for the rest of us? Well, let’s just say the line between client and provider has officially been blurred—beyond recognition. These former clients-turned-“escorts” are making it harder for actual professionals to get the respect they deserve. You can’t tell if he’s messaging you for services or if he’s going to try and sell his “services” to you.

Women, brace yourselves. That guy who was once lurking in your DMs, posting thinly-veiled insults because you wouldn’t give him the time of day? He’s now offering his "companionship" on a sheetless mattress, under the guise of being “exclusive to women.” And it’s spreading like a viral meme—only this meme is an incel troll who’s discovered that listing a price per hour somehow validates his fragile ego.

In the name of being woke, the community has allowed the very men who once threw around misogynistic slurs to infiltrate their ranks, creating a new species: The Incel Provider. They are neither good at being clients nor providers, but their profiles are live and they’re ready to destroy the community from the inside out.

Conclusion: It’s Time to Take a Stand

At some point, the community has to draw a line. Yes, inclusivity is great. Yes, everyone should have the opportunity to find empowerment and financial freedom. But we need to ask ourselves: Is this the hill we want to die on?

Because if we keep going down this path, it’s only a matter of time before every emotionally stunted former client who’s still living with his mom thinks he can slap together a bio, charge $600/hour, and become the next big thing in the world of male escorts.

So, please—before you let another Adam, Chad, or incel provider slide into your inbox claiming he’s “the one” for high-end female clients—remember: not every guy deserves a profile, and not every troll can be a prince.

In a heartwarming, tear-jerking revelation, Bedroom Barbie—social media philosopher and human embodiment of wisdom in stilettos—has shed light on what was once an under appreciated  art: the impossibly heroic act of dating a sex worker.

According to Barbie’s groundbreaking manifesto (aka a viral tweet), anyone daring enough to date an escort deserves nothing short of the highest civilian honors. Forget scaling Everest or surviving a bear attack. No, dear reader, the real mark of valor is standing by while your partner navigates an *emotionally Herculean* task of providing intimacy for others—and having the sheer audacity to expect love in return. Truly, it’s Shakespearean.

"You Get Pushed to the Side Constantly for Clients": The True Tale of Love's Ultimate Sacrifice

In the tweet that may go down in history as the Gettysburg Address of our generation, Barbie graciously acknowledges that dating an escort is not for the faint of heart. It's like being the emotional equivalent of a leftover sandwich in the fridge—sure, they’ll get to you, but only after they've served up a full-course meal to their clients.

"Pretty Much Abused"—It's Like 'The Notebook' But More X-Rated

Barbie’s keen observation that lovers of sex workers are "pretty much abused" brings a new layer to the phrase "suffering for love." Could it be that dating a sex worker is akin to surviving a nuclear fallout, with the emotional radiation poisoning slowly eating away at your soul while they...checks notes… provide professional services?

This startling revelation begs the question: should we, as a society, provide emotional hazard pay to these brave warriors? Maybe they deserve free therapy, or better yet, a Nobel Prize in Relationships (once we create it). After all, they've been through the wringer—emotionally abandoned in a sea of clients and Instagram DMs.

"We Deserve True Love Too": A Bold Declaration From the Frontlines of Heartbreak

In perhaps the most moving part of her tweet, Barbie declares that escorts—like everyone else—deserve "true love." The sheer emotional gymnastics required to separate sex from love deserves its own Olympic event, because apparently, it’s a competition now. We imagine a new reality show: "The Bachelor: Escort Edition," where only the strongest, most emotionally resilient contestants can survive the ultimate test of modern romance—dating someone who spends 9-to-5 doing the things you used to think were special between you two.

But, worry not! It’s not just hard on the date—it's just as hard on the escort too! As if escorting was a joint venture into the depths of human endurance, where both parties silently scream "please love me even though someone else had my Tuesday afternoon."

"It's Just as Hard on Us as It Is on You"—The True Heroes of Modern Love

Now, let's talk about the sheer weight of emotional labor both parties experience. Escorts—those emotional octopi, juggling relationships and clients—apparently carry an equally heavy burden. They, too, deserve praise for being brave enough to wake up, have breakfast with you, and then—oh, I don’t know—have a power lunch with Steve, your accountant. What strength!

Sure, your partner may have spent the afternoon doing things that used to be exclusive to your relationship, but remember: it’s just as hard on them. In fact, maybe even harder because they have to... [checks notes again]... get paid for it.

Cue violin music

In Conclusion: A Salute to the Ultimate Love Warriors

With all due respect to the heroes of World War II, firemen, or anyone with a pet Chihuahua, dating an escort now takes the cake for the most challenging feat of human perseverance. And in the world of Bedroom Barbie, these modern-day love warriors deserve our endless admiration. Perhaps even a statue—right next to the Lincoln Memorial.

So, the next time you meet someone who is dating an escort, don’t just give them a nod. Shake their hand. Thank them for their service. Maybe offer to build them a shrine. They deserve it for navigating a relationship that makes navigating the moon landing look like a cakewalk.

Now, who do we contact for a Pulitzer nomination around here?

In an absolutely shocking turn of events, Fiona Macdonald, a woman who has never participated in sex work, has emerged as the leading authority on the subject. Macdonald, whose qualifications include reading Twitter threads and having a well-intentioned, yet unwavering sense of moral superiority, has taken it upon herself to educate actual sex workers about the true horrors of their livelihood.

"I know some of you think you're empowered, happy, and financially independent," Macdonald said in a recent Twitter exchange. "But as someone who's never stepped foot in a brothel, or had to make a living with my body, I can tell you—it's just not real. The patriarchy has tricked you into thinking you're OK. It’s my duty to save you from yourself.”

Despite numerous responses from sex workers explaining that they are happy with their work, using the income to support themselves and their families, Macdonald remains adamant. “But think back,” she insists. “Did you, as a child, dream of one day being a sex worker? No, you probably dreamed of being an astronaut or a vet. Why not chase those dreams instead?”

Macdonald’s deep insights into the career aspirations of sex workers—most of whom she’s never met—have resonated with... well, mostly other people who have also never been in sex work but are super into telling others how to live their lives.

Nadia Whittome MP, who had the audacity to suggest that sex work might be a labor issue that should be treated like any other job, was on the receiving end of one of Macdonald’s infamous diatribes. "How could you, Nadia? Surely, you must see that decriminalizing sex work is just code for giving pimps and traffickers a free pass!" she lamented, despite having no idea how actual decriminalization works or, again, how people find themselves in the industry in the first place.

“But as a child… did you dream of a union? Did you dream of organizing sex workers?” Macdonald asked, clutching her pearls as if she had just discovered that sometimes life doesn’t turn out like a 90s Disney movie.

When asked how she acquired her extensive knowledge on the subject, Macdonald revealed that she read *at least* two articles on a website called "Moral Judgments Monthly" and has watched "Pretty Woman" at least five times. 

In a rare moment of reflection, Macdonald admitted that she’s never actually spoken to a sex worker in real life, but she feels that her perspective as a Twitter observer gives her all the insight she needs. “I’m an ally!” she proclaimed, conveniently ignoring the voices of actual sex workers in her mentions. “I’m here to help them understand their own lives better than they can themselves.”

Sources confirmed that, despite her best efforts, Macdonald has not yet been awarded a Nobel Peace Prize for her selfless contributions to the war against... things she doesn't understand.

In related news, the sex workers in her comment section, all of whom continue to express their contentment with their careers, were last seen rolling their eyes so hard that they feared they might get stuck that way. “I mean, sure,” one said, “I’m feeding my kids and paying my bills, but please, Fiona, tell me more about how I’m living in a misogynistic hellscape. You seem like you’d know.”

Editor’s Note: Fiona is currently working on her next big Bluesky crusade, “Did You Dream as a Child of Being a Barista?” Stay tuned.

Oh, thank goodness for Tadam, a self-anointed warrior against injustice who has bravely logged on to enlighten us with their... unique perspective on sex work. Because nothing says "I care about women" quite like reducing them to a series of "orifices" and throwing around imaginary statistics with the confidence of a drunk uncle at Thanksgiving.

Let's dissect this masterpiece of willful ignorance, shall we?

"Getting penetrated by penises, objects, fingers in all orifices is not a job."

Wow, stunning. Revolutionary. Truly, a take no one has ever heard before. Clearly, Tadam skipped the day in Respecting Other Humans 101 where they taught that adult women making choices about their own bodies doesn't require your validation. Pro tip: If you have to reduce sex work to penetration to make your point, maybe your "point" is as hollow as your understanding of the topic.

Oh, and while we're here: if you think this phrasing makes you sound progressive, newsflash-it just makes you sound like someone who hates women. Congrats on out-misogynizing the so-called misogynists you're ranting against.

"90% of prostitutes are under the yoke of pimps."

Ah, the 90% of statistics on the internet are made up argument. Truly groundbreaking.Did you come up with this number during a séance with your Facebook aunt? Because credible research sure didn't. In reality, most sex workers operate independently, especially in areas where decriminalization protects their rights. But why let facts get in the way of your moral crusade, right?And let's not ignore your use of the word prostitute. Very empowering! Nothing like dusting off a term designed to stigmatize and shame women to show how much you totally care about their well-being.

"The average age of entry into prostitution is 14 years old."

Oh, here we go-TERF Bingo wouldn't be complete without this little gem. Let's make one thing painfully clear: children can't consent to sex. If a minor is being forced into sexual acts, they aren't "entering prostitution"-they're being trafficked and raped. That's not sex work; it's a violent crime.

The fact that we still have to explain this in 2025 is truly a testament to how little some people bother to learn before they open their mouths. Tadam, sweetie, conflating trafficking with consensual sex work doesn't make you a savior-it makes you part of the problem.

"Calm down misogynists."

Ah yes, nothing like weaponizing a term you don't understand while actively participating in the oppression of the women you claim to protect. Let's not pretend you care about misogyny when you've spent this entire post infantilizing adult women and erasing their autonomy. Your whole schtick is basically misogyny in a bad wig.

Let's Hit You with Some Actual Facts

Here's a free education because, clearly, you need one:

Sex work and sex trafficking are not the same thing.

• Sex work involves consensual labor by adults. Trafficking involves coercion or force. If you can't tell the difference, maybe don't write a manifesto about it.

Stigmatizing language puts women at risk.

• Calling someone a "prostitute" dehumanizes them and perpetuates violence. Respect their choice and use terms like "sex worker" instead of broadcasting your disdain for their existence.

Decriminalization saves lives.

• Countries that have decriminalized sex work see lower rates of violence and exploitation. Maybe spend less time pearl-clutching over things you don't understand and more time advocating for policies that actually protect women.

Tadam, Please Log Off

At the end of the day, Tadam's rant isn't about helping women. It's about moral superiority and a desperate need to feel relevant in a conversation they don't understand. Your post is an embarrassing combination of bad takes and bigotry dressed up as activism. Honestly, the only thing you're protecting is your own fragile ego.

So please, for everyone's sake-log off, read a book, and stop making feminism look bad. You've done enough damage for one day.And to the rest of us? Let's all take a moment to cringe for Tadam and hope they never discover the comment section.