E COVIDIUS UNUM
Zombie apocalypse is kewl
You would think that at my relatively advanced age (I just turned 69) and with my wide perspective on life, gained from decades of traveling and working in six countries on three continents, I would not be a naïve and gullible fool. You would be wrong.
For the past few months, I have lived in an almost totally Covid-free world. No one I know talks about Covid, I am busy working on a couple of music projects and on my memoir. When I speak to my daughters, we discuss husbands, kids, boyfriends and have even begun planning overseas travel now that masking on planes is no longer mandated. When my Team Reality buddies on Twitter discuss Covid, it’s in terms of the far-reaching economic impact of our societal meltdown and the eagerly anticipated punishment of those who caused it. I don’t believe I have been involved in a discussion about IFR, the R number, infectivity or virus characteristics for months.
Alas, I have lived in a nice bubble, it seems. Tonight, quite by accident, I discovered “COVID TWITTER”, a swampy, malodorous corner of the internet, infested by blue checks with degrees in epidemiology, disease modelling and other voodoo sciences. These are people who have lost God and found The Algorithm. And they talk of NOTHING BUT the virus. It feels like March 2020 on steroids. What these shamans whispered back then, they are now shouting out loud: B2, B4, Deltacron, spike ZXY666 from the planet Fauxxion and other esoteric notions that make no sense but sound more scary than Al Gore in 2005 (“In ten years, Miami will be under water and outdoor pools will be open in January in Minneapolis” - or something to that effect) Cases, cases, cases. Testing, testing, testing. “Please, pretty please with a cherry on top, Mr. President bring back mandates. And glue an N95 mazg* on everyone’s face. And while you’re at it, authorize shots for toddlers and 5th jabbers for everyone else. Oh, and while you’re still at it, please send us fat monthly checks because we will NOT get on the subway/bus/train to work for at least a decade!”
When the panic first hit, my wife Diane who has excellent observation skills when it comes to American life imitating art, told me: “This thing will have legs because people secretly wish to actually live through the “romance” of a Zombie Apocalypse” I laughed at the notion, but Diane was right. Too many people have seen too many zombies flicks and now a great number of them have become zombies themselves - without ever getting bitten. (Incidentally, I never use the phrase :”when Covid hit”. Covid never “hit”. We hit ourselves over the head with the sacred canon of Fauci/Ferguson/Drosten and have been in a concussive state ever since)
Who knew so many people didn’t have actual lives and were waiting for Omicron B1B2B3B4B5XXX to provide one for them? Who knew that teenagers would find masks sexy? Is it because they don’t find sex sexy? Who knew that we would be “led” by a man whose below average IQ was degraded further by dementia? Who knew that Americans valued wearing a flimsy piece of paper over their mouths more than liberty? I certainly did not. And for the last few months I was living in hope that all the meshuggas was waning. Little did I suspect that thousands of intrepid “scientists” were just waiting for an opportunity to spring into action and yell: THE 6TH WAVE IS HERE! RUN FOR THE HILLS…BUT FIRST TRIPLE BOOST
*”mazg” is my elegant futuristic spelling for “mask”. Like “Latinex” for “Latinos” and “equity” for “equality”