Here’s the score:
- We’re now in Month 6 of “Two weeks to flatten the curve.”
- Our governor acts like a king, dictating to us what we can do, how many we can do it with, and what we should wear.
- Businesses have died (including mine).
- The RULES keep changing.
- We engage in Safety Theater by wearing masks in public even though their effectiveness is in dispute.
- A black man died from an overdose in Minnesota which started a wave of protests that quickly turned into riots across the country.
- In Portland, the government has let rioters do their thing every night for three months.
- Police across the country have been muzzled and prevented from doing their jobs.
- Now the election season has started in earnest.
- Everyone is on edge.
In 2016, I killed this blog because things were getting completely nuts and I had clients to keep happy. Now I have no clients, so I can, in theory, say whatever the hell I want.
I’m trying to maintain a positive outlook. Even though I clearly have unpopular opinions which I frequently share, I try to avoid the flame wars that usually follow.
But sometimes, it’s fun to light the match to see what happens.
I got the feeling that post didn’t get much attention, and I really liked that chart. So I posted it to Facebook without comment. I wanted to see who’s fire it lit.
I had a pretty good idea who that would be.
Sure enough, my intended target, the communist living in Vietnam mentioned in the former post was almost immediately triggered. He fired back:
“Have you ever lived in a ‘communist’ country? Because your direct relative has for 7 years. We are safe and we are working. Because we give a shit about each other. Because the government cares more about saving lives than your bullshit ‘freedom.’ What, exactly, are you ‘free’ to do that I am not. [sic]”
I replied, “I can buy a gun.”
I’m still waiting for his snappy comeback. It’s been two weeks. Perhaps it’s not coming.
Also, I must note that he is given to exaggeration. He refers to himself as my “direct relative”. In truth he is the son from a previous marriage of the man currently married to my wife’s cousin. If I were to diagram my family tree, he would be the thistle growing near the trunk that I’d pull out and burn.