Manlove Rottingwood Stanx III, from a working class family in the Midwest, as the story goes, has risen to prominence as a candidate for local office.
With an election machine in full force these eye-catching signs dot the landscape:
MANNY STANX
HE'S A CREEP AND YOU LIKE IT
Or else, some prefer bestowing a button upon their garments,
OH, MANNY'S GOT TO BE GOOD FOR SOMETHING
Curiously he doesn't have a campaign staff other than himself, yet at the election HQ in a run-down strip mall along the highway, the lights are always on.
Stanx spent five or six years at various colleges, ended up with a degree then made rounds in certain evangelistic endeavors, traversing the countryside amidst the warm glow of admiration, residing mostly in someone else's quarters and lubricated by reasonably-priced cocktails, unless, of course, someone was watching.
During this phase his most notable line was, "Elmer who?"
Ol' Manny is a true man of the people, or, rather, as many people he can be of. When among veterans he's the first to salute the flag. To the business man he says 'screw the little guy'. When visiting a hippie farm he's been known to utter, 'screw the man, man.'
Recently, Stanx was able to bluff his way through a junior high school visit and join in on PE hoops, reportedly missing a few shots before he retired to the court side and shouted things like 'Good hustle!' and 'Yeah!'
Then on Sunday morning you'll always find him in a church, usually in the foyer or the nursery until it's time to stand with the preacher and shake hands after dismissal.
But, alas, Stanx is not without detractors. There are reports that various children had to revisit potty training after encountering him at a campaign event, even though most of the women present (and even some men?) stood agape with their lascivious tongues danging as Stanx, for his part, dangles countless engaging epithets, vague generalities and raging platitudes as a mother bird noursishes her nestlings.
Running as an independent, or as he puts it, non-partisan, he has this so say: "Parties are like pants, and some things are simply too big to contain." Although never proven, murmurs persist that Stanx has been seen in more than one place at the same instant.
Yet, some contend that the fellow is rather...plastic. Actually, that's all he is. Stanx is comprised entirely of body filler; hardly ages, rarely eats, never sleeps, breathes, or secretes. He just absorbs life and emits that megawatt grin. The lights are always on.
Even though Orwell's vision hasn't come to (full?) fruition, Stanx' imperviousness and near-pervasive ubiquity foreshadows a day when surveillance is guaranteed and privacy is scarce.