COVID Lunch Time [Bitter Clinger]

The following is from our Moron Bitter Clinger. I asked him if I could use as a thread and he graciously said yes.

I believe it was Rudyard Kipling who once eloquently posited that part of being a man is keeping your head when all about you are losing theirs.

It times such as these, the Days of Three-Ply Mega-Roll Panic, many an American has proven prone to retreat in the face of an unseen threat, one purportedly more fearsome than the mightiest military which was repelled by farmers with muskets for our freedom and independence. A foe more formidable than that which bunkered on the beaches of Normandy, whom our brave ancestors stormed headlong into to free the world of tyranny, if but for a moment. More pernicious than an ICBM with a nuclear payload that our greatest President stared down in the world's highest-stakes game of chicken.

It's not just infuriating, it's depressing, to see how mentally softened our country has become. Reduced to a shadow of ourselves, once the greatest, most inspiring nation to grace the planet. A nation colonized by men that sailed across oceans to a wilderness unknown without modern convenience or assurance of survival to have what they coveted most, personal autonomy. A nation that sent men to the deepest depths of the oceans and planted flags on the moon.

And what are we reduced to by media-induced panic? A nation of cowards, that casts the eye of suspicion on our fellow countrymen for the crime of a public sneeze or clearing of the throat.

My Little Clingette recently travelled to Spain on a school trip, one wrought with government travel bans, social distancing advisories, the ever-present "abundance of caution", airport screenings, and a rucksack replete with hand sanitizer, alcohol-wipes and the like.

Upon her return, the top men of government, medicine and science have deemed it proper that she be quarantined for a fortnight, because, you see, having travelled makes her a hazard to society, or so say the top men. Mind you these same men of science have informed us that a child, moments from birth, is no child at all and may be summarily executed. These same men of medicine have assured us that injecting livestock with hormones is a dangerous practice, but injecting an eight year old with hormone blockers is sound medicine. These same men of government ply us with sound logical practices such as the forgoing of jurisprudence for the rapists, murderers and drug peddlers that invade our country from lands afar and near that pillage our great nation by way of government trough and illicit acts.

As a child of the internet generation, Little Clingette is given to trust the collective knowledge of the keyboard. So she is convinced that a visit to grandma's house is tantamount to issuing a death sentence to her elderly maternal role model, and while I love her heart for being so concerned, a part of my heart breaks for her that she is assuredly is symptomatic, not of COVID-19 (or as it is referred to in House Clinger, "The Boogeyman Virus"), but of a deeper, more worrisome disease, one that is increasingly pervasive in our society. She suffers from fear, and fear is a dreadful disease most certainly. For while a bacteria, a virus, a stranger, or whatever other form that risk may manifest as may indeed kill you, fear itself will cripple your growth and life in a way that Polio or Ebola never could.

Fear takes your life, but leaves you alive while it does so.

So today, as an exercise in rational shock therapy, I took Little out for a healthy dose of sunshine and old-fashioned mockery, in an effort to make her face the absurdity of the world she will be living in, taking the idea of social distancing to its Nth degree. We snapped a picture to share with her friends to illustrate the preposterous nature of what today's world might demand of us in an "abundance of caution".

I humbly submit to you "COVID Lunchtime".

Bitter Clinger

posted by Misanthropic Humanitarian at 09:00 PM

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