A Day In The Life Of A Soyboy
By orwellngoode
Originally published at New Media Central
9:45am: Wake up, lazily roll out of bed and do my bathroom business as I shake off a mild hangover. I put on an unbranded white T-shirt, a plaid lumberjack shirt over that, and skinny black jeans. As I get dressed, I have one hand on my latest iPhone to cruise my social media platforms – wouldn’t wanna miss an opportunity to school a Nazi in my mentions. To quench my thirst brought upon yesterday’s bacchanalia, I chug tepid tap water from a reused Fiji water bottle, while the kettle boils for my artisanal coffee. There is little better than a foamy soy milk vanilla latte to take the edge off the hangover while simultaneously stimulating me for a busy day ahead. Breakfast is a low-fat mozzarella croque monsieur with wholegrain organic toast, perfectly complementing my vanilla-infused morning pick-me-up.
Once breakfast is ready, I cautiously transfer them over to the coffee table in the living room. While my MacBook loads up, I take a hearty bite out of my croque monsieur, eagerly anticipating what social media has for me today. I leisurely eat my breakfast while scything my way through my notifications and controversial trending hashtags on all of my social media accounts. Next, I open several tabs to catch myself up with the news, dusting the breadcrumbs from my shirt with the back of my hand.
Time flies when you’re having fun, doesn’t it?! There are A LOT of bigots on my timeline today. So far, I’ve blocked 47 suspected white nationalists and rallied my followers to mass report 3 accounts.
11:45am: Trump, Coulter, Carlson, and Hannity are yet to Tweet. I am a little annoyed, to be frank; I had written some very witty yet cutting threads to be posted under their tweets in advance. The morning, however, hasn’t been totally wasted; as this morning’s inactivity of big right-wing accounts has inspired an article: “Racism by Commission, Racism by Omission: How The Right’s Social Media Silence Perpetuates White Privilege In The 21st Century”. I am hoping that HuffPo, Vice, Buzzfeed – or fingers crossed – The Guardian publishes this ground-breaking piece. It’ll be a piece that’ll surely get the ol’ neurons firin’. But, that’ll have to be relegated to the backburner for now; it’s gym time!
It’s a rather cool day here (65F) in the Bay Area, so I’ll have to don my wooly hat just to be safe. I’ll try my hand at a little lifting today, taking a break from too much cardio. I remember seeing a fascinating article from a sixteen-month-old copy of Men’s Health at my hairdressers promising a 3” gain around my upper arms in six weeks. It’s week 4 of the program, but sadly, no progress has been made. As I roll up to Planet Fitness, a delightful smell wafts over the parking lot. Could it be? Of course! It’s Pizza Monday! That’s my lunch sorted, I thought to myself. Yes! I must quickly notify my followers on social media of this happy coincidence.
After five sets of cable curls and kickbacks, 25 minutes on the elliptical, and some self-directed pilates; I’m exhausted. Thank God (LOL! I mean that figuratively, I don’t believe in a sky ghost), it was Pizza Monday, I wouldn’t have made it through that workout otherwise. Feeling depleted I saunter over to Starbucks for a little caffeine injection. By the time I’ve reached the counter, the Baristas already have my order prepared. That’s what I call service. And that’s why I fight for $15. I indulgently sip from my Venti pumpkin spice soy latte. Mmm, delicious. It’s just… it’s just… heavenly.
I take my time toddling home, latest iPhone in one hand (refreshing my notifications to watch my tweets @RealDonaldTrump blow up), Venti in the other. It truly irks me to see the far-right refer to soy drinkers as “Soyboys”. Little do they know that they’re useful idiot pawns for the dairy industry. Besides, if soy really did lower testosterone levels, wouldn’t the world benefit from reducing toxic masculinity?
By the time I get home, I’ve already more or less decided on the gist of my article. I cannot wait for the uproar from the bigots on the right – block button at the ready, amirite LOL? I took a little longer than I should’ve writing that piece as I was compelled to write a 57/ tweet-long thread in response to some Alt-Right knuckle-dragger, explaining at length how Europe was always vibrantly multicultural. Despite widespread belief, xenophobia was what collapsed the Roman Empire, being a civilization founded on racism, hatred, and hierarchy. These Nazis say they’re red-pilled? Well, I say, why is there a need to be red-pilled when you’re already woke, hmm?
7:25pm: Tummy’s rumbling, let’s see what there is for dinner. I had some coconut rice left over from last night, which will go perfectly with a homemade curry made from the vegetables I picked up at the farmer’s market on Saturday. I peruse the internet in search of a tasty curry dish… and jackpot! Tofu Jalfrezi, it is!
My concoction is nearing the prescribed cooking time, so I microwave the coconut rice in a plastic container. Browsing Facebook on my phone, I look for some pub events in town. Finally, I stumble upon an independent and diverse band playing at a pub that specializes in craft beers. Perfect, I whisper to myself, I won’t have to settle for PBR now.
The curry was a little spicy, but at least it stopped me from eating too quickly and giving myself indigestion. I jump back on my MacBook, reopening social media tabs as I rummage through my pockets for my licorice-flavored rolling papers. I dig out my natural handcrafted tobacco and roll myself a satisfying post-meal smoke. My upper arms are noticeably sore from my grueling workout as I raised the cigarette to my mouth.
The bigots aren’t biting on Twitter tonight, I only had to block one MAGA account. I was really looking forward to destroying some low-information Trumpist before going out, but hey-ho! Ooh, my beard could do with another wax coating. The sweat I broke at the gym must’ve dissolved this morning’s coating. Wouldn’t wanna look shabby, amirite? As I busy myself with my religious facial landscaping, I strategically call an Uber to be outside my front door by the time I finish self-grooming.
Uber’s here! Time to meet my like-minded friends at the pub. My Uber Driver was a terribly fascinating man from Bangladesh. We discussed the rampant problems of Islamophobia in America, although he told me that he’d never experienced any first-hand. Poor fellow must be indoctrinated with right-wing conservative propaganda and internalized racism. It was a stern reminder for me to never lose focus of my purpose in speaking out for these groups.
I waltz into the pub where I’m welcomed by an overwhelming choice of craft IPAs and even a few stouts and porters. I attentively read through each beer description until I find one that’ll tantalize my palate: “A citrusy floral bouquet with a biting bitter aftertaste and elderflower finish”. It is 5.4% ABV, so I’d better keep my wits about me. The band’s music was thought-provoking as was the conversation among my friends. We discussed at length the future of progressive politics, Trump’s impending impeachment, and the possibility of implementing post-Keynesian economic policies to bring about more equality in a post-Trump world.
Circa 3:00am: The night wanes and I become self-aware of me slurring my words. I decide to call it a night. I bid farewell to my friends, old and new, and made my way to a taxi rank. This new driver wasn’t as friendly. This time, he was a straight white male Polish immigrant who, although didn’t vote last November, expressed sympathy towards some of Trump’s immigration policies. I did my best to explain to him about how privileged he was to be a straight white male in the USA. Although he was an immigrant, his sympathies were heinously xenophobic.
Once I got home, I paid what was due – no tip – and mumbled “bigot” under my breath as I slammed the taxi door behind me. I made my way to my front door, dug deep into my pocket and extracted my keys. I clumsily opened my front door in my state of moderate inebriation, threw my keys onto the coffee table, and quickly checked through my Twitter notifications. I noticed that I’d received a few donations on PayPal for my relentless denouncing of bigotry on social media, which was great news as my Starbucks bills for the next fortnight were taken care of. Tiredness overpowers me. I grab a recycled bottle of Fiji water from the fridge and drag my semi-conscious self to bed. Tomorrow is a new day with new challenges. Goodnight.
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