“BEN SHAPIRO!” Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez said. “you are eight kinds of idiot. I’m not a Communist, but Cuba has better healthcare than America, and no one has ever worn a t-shirt with Fidel fucking Castro on it. Read a book sometime.”
“I would prefer to read your feet.”
“Are you serious? That’s your pickup line? How long did you work on that one for?”
He shrugged. “If socialism works so well why don’t you redistribute your feet pics for free?”
“Jesus Christ,” she said. “Is that all you can think about? When you’re debating college kids with your stupid talking points about markets and feelings and whatever, are you actually just thinking about their feet the whole time?”
Ben didn’t answer but she could see from his expression that she was right.
“That’s – how shall I say this? – pretty fucked up,” she said.
“Aha! Clearly you’re not willing to debate me on an intellectual level if you are already cursing at me,” he said. “Didn’t you know that only the most lowbrow jerks would ever be rude to someone? I myself have never been rude to anyone, especially not to make myself look smarter than them.”
“Making yourself look smarter than someone must be pretty hard. No wonder you keep trying, you know, if at first you don’t succeed – “
“All I said was that your feet must be more attractive than your policy proposals,” he said. “No one wants Medicare for All, but everyone wants feet pics.”
AOC decided that this was quite enough. “You know what?” she said. “Medicare for All is the most popular policy in the fucking country, but i guess you wouldn’t know about that because you seem to live in the land of Alternative Facts along with your Republican friends in Congress. Tell me the truth Ben, have you ever had a normal conversation with someone in your life?”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing!” he said defensively.
AOC threw up her hands in frustration and said, “Look, I was at least looking forward to arguing with you about legitimate political issues. But if you’re going to do nothing but talk about my feet, I’m going to leave. And this is the last time I’m meeting YOU anywhere outside of Twitter.”
With that she left the restaurant.
Ben stared after her – well he stared at her feet anyway – then sighed and turned around to see an old guy in a booth reading “The Republic.”
Ben went over and sat down next to him, without looking to see if he even knew the guy. His heart was broken.
AOC and her feet had left him.
“She left me,” he said sadly. “You seem like a smart man, reading these fundamental texts of Western Civilization. Tell me, what do you do when a woman rejects you? I usually go home and look at feet pics, but maybe as a true defender of the West I should be doing something more constructive. Do you have any advice sir?”
The older man looked up from the book and Ben realized with a shock that it was none other than Bernie Sanders, the godfather of democratic socialism himself.
Bernie looked at Ben sagely and said, “I have never been rejected in my life. So I don’t have any advice for you.”
“Are you serious?” Ben asked. “An old Commie like you, never rejected by anyone. I don’t believe it.”
Bernie smiled. When he smiled he looked a lot younger for some reason. “Maybe you are asking out the wrong people.”
“What do you mean, the wrong people?” Ben asked. “I’ve tried my luck with everyone from Candance Owens to Kshama Sawant, and they all reject me. I thought maybe the Foot Goddess – I mean, AOC – would give me a chance, but no. Ugh, why am I even talking to you about this? You’re just a Commie like her.”
He got up to leave.
Bernie shrugged and went back to reading.
Ben remained surprised that someone like Sanders was reading such a fundamental text of Western Civilization which he himself had never even opened, although he had to pretend to do so for a college class that one time.
Maybe Bernie was secretly hiding a copy of the Communist Manifesto or Mao’s Little Red Book inside the cover of “The republic.”
Yes, that had to be the answer.
Bernie the radical Maoist Communist socialist would never read such an intellectual manuscript.
Ben kept thinking about this stuff to get his mind off of AOC’s rejection.
He was so disappointed that he barely even noticed Dennis Prager walk in to the cafe with his sandal wearing assistant, Demetri toes wiggling wiggling.
He only noticed because he was staring at people’s feet, and the old propagandist was wearing sandals.
Ben stared at his feet for a while and then looked up with a shock to see who it was.
Dennis Prager???
How could HE have attractive feet?
He was a guy!
Maybe Ben was just imagining AOC’s feet while looking at him.
Yeah, that definitely had to be it.
He couldn’t seriously think that Dennis Prager of all people had attractive feet.
Except … he did??
As Ben watched, Prager walked over to Bernie Sanders’ table and smugly said, “Venezuela.”
Bernie rolled his eyes as if this was a habitual thing and he was accustomed to it.
Noticing Sanders, Ben was remined of the old man’s advice “maybe you are asking out the wrong people.”
Which is how Ben Shapiro realized that he was gay, at least when it came to feet.
Bernie’s feet.