Oh yeah. You want him, girls. You know you do. The resignation of Roger Ailes as CEO of FOX News last week has sent shockwaves through the landscape of young, leggy women willing to have sex with a fat-faced, married, intrinsically dishonest septuagenarian in order to get and keep a job on a cable TV news channel.
“What was the point of sleeping with all of my professors in order to get a degree in broadcast journalism if I can’t offer my willing young body to Ailes in return for a gig at FOX News?” wailed one aspiring anchorperson, who demanded anonymity before agreeing to this interview, and also a chance to change into an extremely short skirt and sit with her knees pressed tightly together. “I was one night of lust with a musty old white guy away from being a national celebrity and now this!”
Well, now you can be sure it’s your talent that’s taken you to the top.
“Intercourse those feces. I mean, I feel sorry for all the girls that held their noses and let Roger rub his flab all over their taut youthful bodies, then went straight out to kill the memory with half a dozen shots of Patron and orgy sex with Chippendale dancers, but I’m even worse off, because nothing turns me on more than sex with a disgraceful old pervert.”
Wow. Do you mean I have a shot with you, then?
“Are you married? And do you operate a major television network?”
Well, technically, no and no.
“Then forget it. I like to feel a guy’s wedding band scraping against my firm young flesh while he’s wheezing into my ear so hard he sounds like he’s an inch from a heart attack. It’s important to me that I show a man who can advance my career a way better time than some woman who’s been faithfully married to him for years and probably bore his children. As long as he doesn’t actually pop a stent before I get my seat behind the evening news desk, it’s all good.”
It seems like you were born to work at FOX News.
“You said it. In 4th grade, all the other little girls in my class were asked their role models. They came up with typical politically correct answers—Susan B. Anthony, Marie Curie, Barbara Walters. I said Monica Lewinsky. The principal had a long talk with my parents about my unnatural taste for old, wrinkled white guys that smelled like stale deodorant. When they confronted me, though, I just shrugged and told them I was born that way.
So you think your taste for saggy pale male physiques is innate?
"I'm certain of it. When I was just a little girl I remember looking at my grandpa sleeping on the porch with his shirt off and thinking the best thing about him was his long, gray armpit hair.”
So, really, any powerful old geezer who was completely deluded about his sexual attractiveness would do for you?
“Yes, but Roger was my ideal. That limp, hanging double chin! Those wiggly jowIs! I imagine them pressed up against…”
Take it easy. This is a family column.
“Sorry. But just thinking about it gets me excited. It’s all for nothing now.”
I wouldn’t give up hope yet. You may never sit across the news desk from Megyn Kelly, but a girl with a stomach as strong as yours could sleep her way to the top of any industry.
“I know. But I also know that wherever I end up, when the big boss is groping me, or whispering slimey come-ons in my ear, or telling me that Friday is No Underwear Day at the office, I’ll still tingle all over, especially if he’s old enough to remember when Truman was President. But at the same time, I’ll always wish it was Roger.”
“What was the point of sleeping with all of my professors in order to get a degree in broadcast journalism if I can’t offer my willing young body to Ailes in return for a gig at FOX News?” wailed one aspiring anchorperson, who demanded anonymity before agreeing to this interview, and also a chance to change into an extremely short skirt and sit with her knees pressed tightly together. “I was one night of lust with a musty old white guy away from being a national celebrity and now this!”
Well, now you can be sure it’s your talent that’s taken you to the top.
“Intercourse those feces. I mean, I feel sorry for all the girls that held their noses and let Roger rub his flab all over their taut youthful bodies, then went straight out to kill the memory with half a dozen shots of Patron and orgy sex with Chippendale dancers, but I’m even worse off, because nothing turns me on more than sex with a disgraceful old pervert.”
Wow. Do you mean I have a shot with you, then?
“Are you married? And do you operate a major television network?”
Well, technically, no and no.
“Then forget it. I like to feel a guy’s wedding band scraping against my firm young flesh while he’s wheezing into my ear so hard he sounds like he’s an inch from a heart attack. It’s important to me that I show a man who can advance my career a way better time than some woman who’s been faithfully married to him for years and probably bore his children. As long as he doesn’t actually pop a stent before I get my seat behind the evening news desk, it’s all good.”
It seems like you were born to work at FOX News.
“You said it. In 4th grade, all the other little girls in my class were asked their role models. They came up with typical politically correct answers—Susan B. Anthony, Marie Curie, Barbara Walters. I said Monica Lewinsky. The principal had a long talk with my parents about my unnatural taste for old, wrinkled white guys that smelled like stale deodorant. When they confronted me, though, I just shrugged and told them I was born that way.
So you think your taste for saggy pale male physiques is innate?
"I'm certain of it. When I was just a little girl I remember looking at my grandpa sleeping on the porch with his shirt off and thinking the best thing about him was his long, gray armpit hair.”
So, really, any powerful old geezer who was completely deluded about his sexual attractiveness would do for you?
“Yes, but Roger was my ideal. That limp, hanging double chin! Those wiggly jowIs! I imagine them pressed up against…”
Take it easy. This is a family column.
“Sorry. But just thinking about it gets me excited. It’s all for nothing now.”
I wouldn’t give up hope yet. You may never sit across the news desk from Megyn Kelly, but a girl with a stomach as strong as yours could sleep her way to the top of any industry.
“I know. But I also know that wherever I end up, when the big boss is groping me, or whispering slimey come-ons in my ear, or telling me that Friday is No Underwear Day at the office, I’ll still tingle all over, especially if he’s old enough to remember when Truman was President. But at the same time, I’ll always wish it was Roger.”
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