Legal Disclaimer: This is a satirical commentary in the style of George Carlin. If you think “first class” means you’re winning at life, not just sitting closer to the pilot while the rest of us suffocate behind a curtain, buckle the fuck up. This one’s got turbulence.

You know what I love about modern journalism? The optimism. The blind, champagne-fueled optimism.

Apparently, folks — we’ve done it. We’re back. The airlines are returning to service, baby! Free drinks in economy! Coffee for the peasants! Humanity is restored!

They’re acting like Jesus just showed up with a corkscrew and a trolley cart. “Behold! I bring you complimentary merlot and the illusion of dignity!”

Oh, it’s a renaissance all right. You can tell because the press release calls it “elevated passenger experience.” That’s corporate for: “We’re giving you back one of the things we stole and pretending it’s a gift.”

Free wine in economy. 

That’s not progress. That’s a hostage being given a juice box.

They stripped out the legroom, turned peanuts into a taxable event, and now they hand you half a cup of piss-warm rosé and call it civilization. “Would you like Chardonnay or Stockholm Syndrome?”

And look at how the article ends.

It’s not for you, the person rationing PTO because your kid caught the flu.

No, this is for the real traveler — the “four- and five-star” hotel crowd.

The ones who can drop ten grand on a vacation and still tip the valet with a stock option.

They’re selling the story that flying is fun again — for the people who could afford to enjoy it even when it wasn’t. Meanwhile, half the country’s grounded because they spent their grocery money on daycare.

But hey — the service is back! You can’t afford bread, but there’s a free glass of Merlot at thirty thousand feet. If you can’t eat, at least you can drink the illusion that you matter.

This isn’t about comfort, it’s about class altitude.

The higher your income, the more oxygen you get. They’re handing out champagne up front while the rest of us are back here chewing recycled air and praying the pilot doesn’t “enhance” the landing.

And don’t you love how they frame it?

“Flying is profitable again.” Of course it is! You paid $200 to pick a seat, $50 to bring luggage, $25 to sit next to your spouse, and $10 to pretend the Wi-Fi works. They charge you extra to exist, then pour you wine to help you forget.

It’s all illusion, baby.

Like saying America’s economy is “booming” because Wall Street’s drunk on buybacks while your rent just filed for divorce from your paycheck. Like celebrating “record profits” in a year when food banks are setting attendance records too.

They’re selling luxury while you’re selling plasma. 

They’re bragging about legroom while you’re figuring out how to afford lunch.

And when the article says, “the major airlines are starting to compete on service again,” what they mean is, “the rich are bored, and we need to keep them entertained.”

They’ll feed caviar to the people who can already afford steak—and call it “economic recovery.”

Meanwhile, the USDA’s got six billion dollars it “can’t” use to feed forty million people,

 but we can pour ten billion into new business lounges so the elite don’t have to look at the rest of us while we starve.

And if a few states dare to pay for SNAP out of their own pockets? No reimbursement. No refund. The message is clear: feed your people, and you’ll be punished for it.

You see what’s happening, right?

They’re not starving people by accident. They’re starving them into obedience. Because the hungrier the states get, the cheaper they are to own. Once the feds make you pick between feeding your citizens or paying your debts, congratulations — you’re not a state anymore.  You’re a franchise.

That’s the real turbulence, folks — not the kind that spills your complimentary drink,

 but the kind that spills your democracy.

They’re toasting you from thirty thousand feet while cutting your food stamps at sea level.

They’re handing out free wine on flights you can’t afford to take and calling it progress.

So here’s to the new “golden age” of air travel — where the wealthy recline, the press applauds, and the rest of us are left on the tarmac, drinking tap water out of a cracked thermos,

 listening to the engines roar overhead, and wondering if maybe, just maybe, the captain remembers who built the goddamn plane.