In the old Soviet Union and other such places, one had to worry about one’s neighbor even more than the government. The government could not be everywhere, after all. It had only so many official enforcers – and most of them wore uniforms. You could avoid them because you could see them coming; you generally knew your enemy.
But there was also the invisible enemy. The people all around you. The ones who never said a word to you – but said words to the government.
We have such people all around us now. They are the ones you can thank for the recent doubling down on Diapering – especially at islands of sanity that have been reasonable about Diapering; businesses whose policy has been to leave people free to wear a Diaper if they wish to but not to make an issue of it if they don’t.
These businesses have been able to “get away” with this – loathsome language of inverted morality – because the government remains relatively powerless to impose Universal Diapering. “Guidelines” aren’t laws – and You Must Diaper signs plastered on doors by government Gesundheitsfuhrers have no force beyond intimidation. If a business owner who opposes forced Diapering doesn’t choose to harass his Undiapered customers, his Undiapered customers can safely transact business.
Unless “someone” calls.
And anonymously complains about the sight of an Undiapered.
Then the government sics itself on the business; paid (by those they victimize) thugs appear and threaten the owner of the business with fines and/or loss of their government permission to do business (i.e., their business license – essentially the same thing as a feudal serf’s being allowed to sell some of his potatoes, so long as the lord of the state says he may).
Well, “someone” called.
About the sight of Undiapered customers and the sight of the Undiapered owner – God bless him – of a small country store I regularly visit – often just to visit, because I’m friends with the owner and know the people who work there. They are good, honest, genuine people – the type of people that people who practice live and let live – not “social distancing.” Who aren’t sick (in the head) move to the country to be around – so as not be around the people who are sick in the head.
Until just the other day, the owner (I will not name him or the store, for reasons that ought to be obvious) didn’t wear a Diaper, seeing no reason to – as he told me privately – beyond being made to pretend he has joined the Sickness Cult, which he despises as much as I do.
It took the wind out of my sails to walk into the store yesterday and see him with a dirty bandana over his face. A plexiglass wall now separates customer from cashier.
Because “someone” called.
A snitch. A craven – but vicious – “someone” who cannot stand the idea of others not doing as they’re told. One cannot know who it is precisely because it could be anyone. It’s as invisible a threat as death in the air only this virus is both real and very lethal.
Your neighbor is now your enemy – or might be. Which ends up amounting to the same thing. You will never again look at him the same way. Or he at you. Friends can’t be sure of friends. Even within families . . . “someone” might call. And you’ll never know who – only that “someone” did . . .because someone else came.
This is what it is like to live in a police state – where everyone is a member of the secret police.
Because anyone might be.
This is even more alienating than the sight of all the Diapered. The paranoia-inducing knowledge that you can’t trust anyone anymore. That it is necessary – to survive – to at least pretend to pay homage to required orthodoxies, everywhere – all the time.
Because someone might call.
No space is your own anymore, except that inside your head – and they are no doubt coming for that, too.
They can call anytime they like. On anyone. What power these awful little creatures have been given. Does anyone care?
Does anyone realize what it means?
We are living in a Sickness Star Chamber. No formal charges, guilt an automatic function of the indictment made by people whose faces you never see, whose names you never know. Against whom you have no recourse other than the one that is surely coming as people begin to understand what is being done and take the only measures remaining to them.
God help us.
My friend the store owner told me he’s told a few overt busybodies – people who commented about the sight of the Undiapered within his store – that no one was forcing them to enter the store; that if they felt uncomfortable there were other stores – some perhaps more to their liking.
They did not like this, of course. Because they do not like the idea of choice. Rather, everyone must be forced to make the same “choice” – theirs. And so they left – and made a call.
So now he wears the required uniform of the Sickness Cult, a dirty bandana. Which is enough – even though it serves no health purpose. A dirty bandana cannot interrupt the transit of a virus and those who believe it can are just that . .. believers. In the religious sense.
In the cultic sense.
The “face covering” – as these people style their Diapers – is nothing more than the visible affirmation of the will of the wearer having been broken. He is one of us now. We have made him so.
All it takes is a call.
. . .
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