Manhattan Infidel’s emotional support sex workers

Lately on the news there have been lots of stories about “emotional support” animals, which are quite different from service dogs for the blind or those confined to wheelchairs.  Basically an “emotional support” animal can be a dog, pig or even an alpaca that a human needs with him to provide relief from emotional stress. Recently a US Airlines flight from Philadelphia to Los Angeles was forced to land when a woman’s “emotional support” dog took two giant dumps in the aisle, sickening passengers

With this incident in mind I have decided, as the brave member of the MSM that I am, to test the boundaries of “emotional support” animals.  I hired an emotional support prostitute to attend to my needs.

Now taking into account that prostitution is still illegal I dotted my x’s and o’s and had my emotional support hooker registered at the Emotional Support Animal Database of New York.  It only cost 20 dollars and I received the following card in the mail:

To whom it may concern:

Manhattan Infidel is a blogger and has been evaluated for and diagnosed with a mental health disorder. His psychological condition affects daily life activities, ability to cope, and maintenance of psychological stability. 

Manhattan Infidel has an emotional support sex worker that provides significant emotional support, and ameliorates the severity of symptoms that affect his daily ability to fulfill his responsibilities and goals. Without the companionship, support, and care-taking activities of his emotional support sex worker, his mental health and daily living activities are compromised.

Card in hand I traveled to Hunt’s Point in the Bronx and hired an emotional support sex worker. I then took her to various places in Manhattan to gauge my fellow Gothamites’ reaction.  Would they be liberal?  Would they be tolerant?

I first took my emotional support sex worker to a school playground.  I found that the residents of Manhattan were true to their reputation as an enlightened, tolerant peoples. My emotional sex worker was able to “relieve” my stress without interruption.  Though one schoolteacher (probably an intolerant teabagger) asked me why I had brought a Kardashian to the school ground.

My second stop with my emotional sex worker was at a subway station.  As my emotional support sex worker proceeded to de-stress me no one in the subway station batted an eye. One police offer however did ask us what we were doing.  I thought we were finally going to be arrested but when I produced the card explaining that this was my emotional support sex worker the officer left us alone, his only concern that she buy a Metrocard.

So far New Yorkers had lived up to my fondest wishes.  They truly were a tolerant, enlightened and progressive people.

For my final test I decided to bring my emotional support sex worker to a restaurant while I wore a “Ron Paul for President 2016″ t shirt.

The prices of the entrees had me very stressed so I had my emotional support worker do her job. As she was de-stressing me I became aware that people were staring at my shirt.

“He’s one of them!” someone shouted.

“How dare you wear that t shirt here!” shouted another.

The crowd around me grew and started to get threatening.  For the safety of my emotional support sex worker and myself I felt it was time to leave.  Just not yet.

“Can you wait another 30 seconds?  I’m almost there” I pleaded to no avail.

We soon found ourselves being chased by an angry mob of progressives.

“Kill him.  He hates black people!’ and “Kill him. He won’t pay his fair share of taxes” were just two of the the shouts I heard.

They chased me into an alleyway where I thought I was going to be killed.  With nothing to lose I grabbed the nearest things I could find to defend myself. In this case it was a discarded DVD of Al Gore’s Academy Award winning documentary,“An Inconvenient Truth” and a copy of “Dreams of My Father” and threw them at the angry, progressive crowd.

They  huddled around what I had thrown, silent and awe-struck.

With their attention fastened on the gifts, my emotional support sex worker and I were able to escape.

The verdict?  New Yorkers, for the most part, are the tolerant people they are made out to be.

I’d like to conclude this post on a personal note:  Since my foray about town with my emotional support sex worker I have had to go into hiding.  It turns out that my emotional support sex worker’s emotional support pimp wants his money.  So post may be less frequent in the future.

The Manhattan Infidel

(696)