(micro) Chips On The Shoulders of the Collective and The Increasing Problem of the Moral High Ground
I’m on the Blue Line, heading downtown to get to Millennium Park. I’m tired — it’s been a long week so far — so I’m standing amongst the other commuters, my shades still on, staring blankly toward the floor. I’m not really focusing on anything at all and I’m sort of just drifting into my brain when I hear:
“They’re legs.”
...that if being a prostitute is just ‘sex work’ then why is it awkward if your manager at the local Starbucks offers you a raise for a blow job? It’s just work, right? “I’ll have a Chai Latte and a rim job. I’ll keep the tip.”