Tag Archives: masks

Masks and Mendacity (A Better Read Than Sense And Sensibility)

Masks Masks Masks Masks Masks Masks MasksMasks Masking Mendacity

The other day I was unpacking the groceries, and contrary to habit, I decided to actually wash the veggies before I put them away so they’d be ready to eat. Suddenly, I felt I was being lied to. Let me explain before you go back to watching Netflix and/or swallowing hallucinogens.

As I unpacked the bunch of parsley (stop judging me, it goes well with potatoes) I realized that 50% of the delicious, leafy, green garnish was just stems. Just stems! I paid hard earned money and half of it was pretty useless. Then it dawned on me suddenly why this was so.

Obviously, it’s the Parsley Mafia who’s controlling what we get. Who else but a conniving bunch of greedy parsley power-brokers could pass off half a bunch as  a whole bunch and make a tidy profit off the stuff. It’s degrading and insulting but do you really have the courage to defeat the parsley mafia? Not to mention their lobbyists and secret cabal at the United Nations. And don’t pretend like you don’t know, either. You’re all probably in on it anyway.

And it’s absurdist, small gene puddle, low-IQ, Republican thinking like that which led to the current state of the USA, right-wing populists across the globe, and present-day Russia. Not to mention people who think that wearing a mask somehow shows you’re giving in to a global conspiracy or surrendering your freedom.

Somehow, the people who aren’t wearing masks intentionally are rebels. Freedom fighters. Turns out they’re just colossal morons who do what they feel is right. (Click the link, it takes to you to the best line ever from the Simpsons.)

Annus Horribilis or Mirabilis

You know, I didn’t think 2020 could get much worse, what with COVID-19, and all the associated misery. Plus the unending violence in the USA, ever increasing global temperatures and my danishes are more expensive too. Granted it’s not as bad the great Erfurt Latrine Disaster of 1184 (thank you, Lars). Now that was a shit hole. But it has been tough for all of us. Except the rich. What’s new.

So much has changed in this past year, what with masks now being all the fashion rage. It just used to be bank robbers, Mummenschanz and terrorists who wore these symbols of airborne disease-limitation. Who knew that in addition to wreaking havoc and death (especially Mummenschanz) they were ahead of their time in disease prevention.

It has been not just a year of death and disease, but our language has changed too. We now write “Black” with a capital ‘B’ when referring to Black people, culture and community. Small ‘b’ when the word precedes the words ‘market’, ‘car’, ‘mask’ or ‘heart’ (e.g. ‘Anyone who supports Trump has a black heart.’).

Circa Six Feet or Two Meters

The point being it’s all insanity anyway and maybe in addition to wearing masks, we should all permanently stay approximately six feet (or two meters) away from ANYONE and EVERYONE even after they’ve found a cure for this COVID crap. Granted that would make changing diapers and having sexual relations difficult, but it’s up to some smart MIT dude to come up with a solution. How many marriages would be better off that way? Now you get it.

Now, it’s time for bed and bizarre dreams of nose swabs, sports with no fans, and less expensive danish.

Insincerely yours,
Vladimir Guerrero Druker

How To Mask Your True Emotions

Mask True Emotions
Mask True Emotions
Mask True Emotions
Mask True EmotionsMask Your True Emotions. Please.

I just read a scientific article (without moving my lips too much) on what may have been the worst year ever — 536 CE. Or AD if you prefer that abbreviation. According to these scientists — Trump devotees by default excluded because facts are involved — 536 was the worst year ever! Volcanic eruptions, freezing winters, no sun, failed crops, and perhaps worse, no TV or Netflix to get through it. Neither chocolate nor cinnamon danish had been invented yet. Times were literally and figuratively dark. A mask of misery had covered the globe.

I can only presume with little or no scientific evidence, and even less research because it’s too damn hot today, that people back then must have been freaking out. (Kind of like now, except we have Netflix and danish of various sorts.) The superstitious and  uneducated masses, lacking any real guidance, must have run wild in the unpaved streets, begging for help, searching for any answers, and fearful of their neighbours (also, kind of like now).  The many simple and few enlightened folk must have hid in their homes and hoped for the best and some kind of miracle to free them. (Also, kind of like now. Is it just me or does anyone see a trend?)

2020 vs 536

Many have said that 2020 is the worst year ever! Virus, death, racism, riots, an American election with two old white guys, China spying and running rampant over democracy, millions unemployed. The usual. But people have become very angry and vocal of late. [Note to reader: I am not suggesting people don’t protest. Quite the opposite, they should stand up to the entrenched powers that be. Or kneel. Or whatever gets some good media attention. It gives me great material to work with for the blog.] But at times it might be a little too emotional. Too in your face. Too much fomite-soaked anger blowing in the wind.

We could all really use some emotional masks.

Emotional Masks

I am not talking metaphorically here. Some smart person (Trump devotees by default excluded) is going to come up with some kind of mask that inhibits or in some way tempers our emotions.

My design, which was rejected by the patent office for using too many swear words and containing a selfie of me wearing nothing but a moose hat and slippers, is simple. It will look like your regular everyday mask you can buy at any of the major mask outlets (such as Musk’s Masks, Masks-R-Us, Masks, Flasks and Basques).

The difference is it will come with a 12oz (355 ml) container of liquid emotional modifier (read: booze) of your choice. To start, four kinds would be available: Scotch Whisky for the upscale set, Beer for the blue collar audience, cherry-flavoured schnapps for the rustic crowd, and Vodka for those who wish to keep their consumption discreet, but still not give a crap. At the start of your day, soak your mask before you go out. Or talk to anyone in your household. Repeat at lunch, coffee breaks, dinner and bedtimes. I’m not saying you have to drink the booze, just inhale the vapours until you’re giddy and a little sleepy maybe.

While there are other ways to tame our emotions, such as therapy, weed, pills, yoga, archery, wood-working, setting small fires, or playing strip poker, I say give your mask a shot. Of schnapps preferably.

Manifestly mediocre,
Friar Druker of Snickerdoodle

COVID Cohabitation Connundrum

COVID CohabitationThe COVID Cohabitation Conundrum

So after having been on creative hiatus for some time, I realized it was time to return and fill the world with what my dear mother calls ” your visual and textual detritus” – however she may have been referring to my father’s stack of dirty magazines that he so cherishes. He said something about it being educational materials.

Of all the times to return to the festering pit that is the Internet, I had to choose the COVID pandemic. Or the Corona pandemic. Or whatever you want to call it.  This allegedly bat-borne Asian virus has led to many hardships, the most devastating of which revolve around death, too much time watching Netflix / Prime / Hulu and the inability for me to go to my favorite burger joint and consume vast quantities of an artery-clogging element known as ‘cheeseburgers’. The last one being particularly grievous for society as a whole.

What’s worse than all that aforementioned misery is this utterly extemporaneous (which is Latin for highly spontaneous bullshittery after too much coffee and not enough sleep) blog that is trying, mostly unsuccessfully, to reflect on the conundrum of cohabitating with the COVID virus.

Note to reader: If you don't know the meaning of the word conundrum, neither do I, but I thought it sounded like a nice alliteration for a semi-illiterate like myself. Actually, I think it means a measure of volume of frozen shrimp. Sort of like, "I have 2 barrels of whisky, 3 conundrums of frozen shrimp, a vat of cocktail sauce, which will all be mixed in the high-powered thrunginator."

 COVID  The Frat Boy

For all intents and purposes, there is much we do know about this virus, and much we don’t. The easiest way to explain it to someone like Trump, or any of the small-brained fascists who supports him, is to liken it to living with a smelly frat-boy roommate from an over-privileged family that you signed a 3-year apartment lease with.

That kind of roommate is hell on earth. They break your stuff, they leave the bathroom a hairy, filthy mess, the stove has old, burned tomato sauce on it that needs disinfectant to remove it, you can’t hold a conversation with anyone face to face when they’re around because they’ll spoil it by farting. You can’t bare having them around because they’re insensitive, indiscriminate, they brag how they’re the greatest at everything. What’s worse? Every time you clean up after them, they come back and stink up the joint. Like clockwork.

Come to think of it, the parallels between Trump and COVID are startlingly similar. Maybe he is a fully evolved COVID strain? Would explain a lot.

Global Cohabitation

The biggest problem with the COVID cohabitation conundrum is that it’s absolutely global. So, let’s say you manage to get away from it, where are you going to go? Definitely not China. Well, you could go to where it supposedly originated, but you’d have to live in a police state that revels in the grand tradition of authoritarianism and that has mastered professional  denying and lying even better than the Russians. Successfully I might add.

There’s also talk of contact tracing apps that will allow health officials (or Google/Facebook/Apple) to gather info on whether you came in contact with someone with COVID. Why? So you can freak out and panic that you have the virus too. Honestly, this is like having the frat boy jerk show up uninvited at a party, telling you he spilled melted cheese on your bed while watching porno on your computer. Inescapable. Almost.

What To Do

You have a couple of options. Stay at home indefinitely and use your retirement savings towards the purchase of a lifetime membership at Uber Eats.  Or if you really want to get away, there is one place you could go to. The South Pole. No COVID there – or so the local tourist office there claims. They have a notorious reputation for over-hyping the fun activities in Antarctica. The Emperor penguins and walruses do not like to pose for selfies as they have claimed.

Conversely, you could to Svalbard and wrestle with polar bears if you like a bit sport. They’re opening back to tourists soon. And once you’re there, I bet you can get a caribou cheeseburger more easily than here.

So now that you’ve made it this far into the blog, you probably hate yourself even more for having read this garbage. While you were reading I rifled through your drawers.

Have a happy quarantine and stay safe.

Effervescently yours,
Senator Bongo Druker