I was able to get some booze yesterday, without Diapering.
This isn’t easy to do because of the belligerent enforcement of the Gesundheitsfuhrer’s decree that everyone must wear a Diaper – a “mask” – in order to enter a state-run alcoholic beverage dispensary.
In Virginia, you can’t buy liquor anywhere else.
The state’s residents have long been treated like outpatient derelicts under a state-supervised maintenance regime. Try to imagine going to the DMV to get a bottle of tequila and you will have some idea. The prices are high, the selection poor and the service terrible. It can be all of those things because there’s nowhere else you can go to buy booze – at least, not within the state.
Anyhow, I was out for a ride on the bike to clear my head of Orange Fog. To dispel the image of the country’s Decider, Diapered – and what that implies will be the lot of the country’s people.
Who probably won’t get to decide for themselves. Such things being tolerated in free countries only.
At any rate, I thought it would be fun to enter the store wearing a helmet – another item of state-required gear but which isn’t a “mask” – and – does it really have to be stated? – is as effective at blocking viruses as a wire mesh boat is buoyant. My face is also visible – including my unobstructed nose and mouth.
But I had something over my head – and that was enough to gain unopposed entry. It probably could have been a colander. I walked among the Diapered, winking at some. A couple winked back. Others looked blank, not knowing what to think. The third or fourth cow in line before his turn at the stun gun likely has the same look.
I breezed through the aisles – my breeze wafting into the surrounding air through my open flip visor. Grabbed a few jugs of the cheap stuff – after the first drink, it’s all the same – and went up to the counter and handed the government worker the necessary pieces of paper and walked away.
I’ve done the same before CoronaMania and attendant Sickness Pyschosis – because I didn’t want to leave my expensive helmet on the bike while I shopped and it was easier to wear it than carry it. But I never imagined that wearing a motorcycle helmet would qualify as a “mask.”
But it does, because this is – need it be said, again? – theater.
These “mask” decrees show the contempt of the decreers for the intelligence and self-respect of the cattle they order about. Intelligent people wouldn’t put up with such idiocy. They would first laugh – and then get mad – if told that the only way to”stop the spread” of a deadly respiratory virus is to place an ill-fitting porous cloth rag over their apertures. They would know it was a farce, as far as health. They would understand it was something very serious – as far as something else.
But they see no humor in it. And worse, don’t see the danger in it.
The same goes – pre-Corona – for the wearing of a helmet. Ostensibly, this is decreed because it keeps your head safe. But what about the rest of you? Exposed limbs, unprotected torso. Flip flops, shorts and a T shirt (even no shirt at all). It’s all green light.
Your face will look good in the casket, apparently.
This is not an appeal for a decree that motorcyclist should be force to wear full gear – armored leathers, boots and gloves in addition to the helmet – much less an appeal that everyone walking about ought to be forced to wear at least a respirator of some kind as well as goggles and possibly a Moon Suit tethered to its own portable/closed-circuit oxygen supply.
If there is indeed a horrendously dangerous to everyone – or even most everyone – respiratory virus wafting in the air then it is imbecilicly reckless to pretend that a “mask” – or a helmet – serves any meaningfully palliative purpose.
Might as well take them all off and breath – or go the full monte and mandate equipment that assures no one rebreathes anything others have breathed out.
But justifying that kind of imposition would be expensive as well as hugely inconvenient; it might entail the presentation of evidence that there is a horrendously dangerous to everyone – or even most everyone – respiratory virus wafting in the air.
The fact that a loosely fitted old bandana hastily pulled up over one’s apertures at the entrance to the store, the wearing of a “mask” that warns the wearer right on the box it came in that it doesn’t protect against the spread of viruses – or a motorcycle helmet that shows the clearly exposed nose and mouth of the wearer – makes the “PPE” cut tells you what this show is really all about.
Might as well go for a three-hour cruise in that wire-mesh-bottomed boat.
See you on Gilligan’s Island!
Good news addendum! Today I went to Kroger and saw four other Undiapered shoppers, which may not sound like much but it’s a lot more than the no Undiapered shoppers I saw the last 2-3 times I went to Kroger.
The Diapers are coming off – just slowly. Keep on showing your face and they’ll come off faster!
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