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.
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.
Senator Bongo Druker