It didn’t just happen that a majority of the populace bought into the hysteria manufactured about a virus that doesn’t kill 99.8-something percent of the otherwise healthy population. They were primed to buy into it – by decades of programming about saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaafety being the single most important thing in life. Even to the extent of stifling the expression of life.
It goes back generations and has many facets but the most obvious antecedent is the ululation chorus regarding the Danger of Speed – defined by the ululators as any speed beyond that posted on a sign standing by the side of the road. Such speed killed, they said.
Of a piece with the assertions made recently about “asymptomatic spread” (and not wearing a “mask”) killing.
Usually, “granny” – the hypothetical old person whose actuality never had to be proven before the asserted asymptomatic, non-“masking” putative killer was actually proscribed and punished.
Perhaps you see the correlation?
It was never a defense – either in court or by the side of the road – to point out to a cop or a judge that driving 65 rather than 55 (often, on a road that it was previously legal to drive 70 on) had not resulted in any harm or even a screech of the tires. Just as it never made any impression – against the hysterics’ feelings to the contrary – that a person who isn’t sick and hasn’t got any symptoms of sickness cannot spread a sickness he hasn’t got by failing to wear a “mask” – or standing closer than six feet to someone else.
What matters – in both traffic court and the open-air lunatic asylum that was once a relatively sane country – is that something bad might happen. That there is risk. It does not matter that nothing did happen, nor that the risk is attenuated even to statistical non-existence. As, for instance, in the case of young people being at any meaningful risk of dying from the ‘Rona, which they aren’t.
The slightest risk that a hypothetical one among them – even if it is only one hypothetical out of an actual 100,000 of them – is sufficient warrant to impose palliatives and punishments upon all of them, just in case.
Because you can’t be too safe.
And if it saves even one life.
Now matter how many lives it actually ends up taking – like the roughly 6,000 (so far) admitted to having been taken by the Needling being pushed by the very government that said destroying everyone’s life (except those working for the government) was a cost worth paying.
These mantras of the deranged – accepted by the stupid – have become as commonplace as injunctions of the past such as a penny saved is a penny earned. Millions of people who cannot grasp the wisdom of saving anything tangible – including the lives of their children, to say nothing of saving their childrens’ having a life worth living – are willing to lay waste to everything for the sake of preventing the hypothetical something bad from happening to hypothetical “someones” whose specific existence never need be established.
It’s a wonder anyone even goes outside anymore, let alone for a drive.
Safetyism hasn’t eliminated risk; it has sucked the joy out of living. A person who fears what-might-happen to an irrational degree is a person whose capacity to act is crippled since there is always something that might happen. This includes going for a walk outside on a sunny day. It might rain. You might be struck by lightning. To never go for a walk because it might rain and because you might get struck by lightning is a manifestation of severe psychological problems, an inability to gauge risk and accept that rational risk-taking is a normal part of life.
It is not rational to stay inside on a sunny day because it might rain. It is not rational to be terrified of driving faster than a number posted on a sign, just because it is posted. It is crazy to live in dread of a sickness that does not kill 99.8-something of the otherwise healthy population – and evil to regard those who do not share in such craziness as disease-spreading, defiant imbeciles.
As it turns out, they’re the only ones who care about the actual risk. About the things that have actually happened – and not to hypothetical “someones,” either.
. . .
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