Over the years I’ve used a number of words to describe myself. Restless, curious, optimistic, always changing, searching… And then it came to me a couple of days ago. I mostly live in a state of permanent dissatisfaction.
And so do you.
The past, which has gone, haunts us. Why did I do that? I can’t blame them. It won’t happen again. I’ve not yet learned the lessons. It’s so easy to queue up unpleasant memories.
The future, which is always ahead of us, which is mostly unknown, makes us anxious. I don’t fancy that. Here we go again. What happens if? Ah well. Life is what happens while you’re busy making plans.
Okay. So what’s going on in the wider world?
We don’t know. Most of our freedoms have been stripped away. World “leaders” parrot the bullshit. Socially distance, wear a mask, get the vaccine. Life is joyless. Upturned benches, fenced off seating, shop alone, die alone. IF YOU GO OUT, YOU CAN SPREAD IT. PEOPLE WILL DIE.
It’s worse now than it was when it began.
Body doubles strut their stuff. Have you seen Biden’s ears? Clinton’s ankle tag? Have you forgotten Maxwell?
Tomorrow it will all change. It will all change before/during/after the Super Bowl. It will change next week. Maybe March. Possibly April. It might be October. Keep the faith, follow the plan.
Dissatisfied doesn’t cut it. Millions, if not billions, in a state of permanent anxiety. Terror frozen in the eyes between the hat and the top of the mask. Keep your distance, step into the road. Follow the rules.
Smile, say hello to a stranger. Lifts you and them for a while. Try to make eye contact, they step off the pavement before you do. Wear six masks. Get the clap from the NHS. Die with, from, or of Covid. Wear your mask whilst driving, the virus is rampant. They are prostrate.
Hydroxychloroquine is racist. Vitamin C is transphobic. Exercise discriminates against refugees. Climate deniers, Trump supporters and truth seekers should be rounded up and shot.
Tomorrow it could all change. It might change before/during/after the impeachment proceedings. It will change the week after that. Maybe May. Possibly June. It might be 2022. There is no plan.
Parkes, Ward, O Savin, Decode, Wood, Dave and LT are all part of a Psyop. Powell and Flynn are part of the Deep State. Women’s sports are dead. Move aside while that bloke declares himself a woman.
We are all victims. Unless we are white men. We are all oppressors but only if we are white men. White men are scum, super spreading scum. The world is institutionally racist, the streets are racist, dogs are racist. How dare you!
But Biden’s ears are different. So are his mannerisms. The inauguration was a joke.
We have to do it ourselves, no one can do it for us. Rip off your mask, stride out into the traffic and shout loudly: “IT’S A SCAM!”
No one can do it for us. No one is coming over the hill with an army.
Do it for yourself!
Do what exactly? Stand-up? Sit down? Stay at home? Go out and kill someone? Who am I killing? Is my virus more virulent than yours? How many have died? What is a case? Take part in the trial? Die a death.
Get online. You don’t need to go out. Have Zoom meetings. Have virtual hugs, virtual conversations, virtual breaths, virtual sex; have a virtual life. Is that right Alexa? When do I take my meds? How soon can I get my microchip?
What’s on TV? A game show. Watch the ads. Betting, BAME, booze. Hybrids, hamburgers, hernias. Do any of you remember the days when comedy was funny? Sorry I forgot, it was all racist.
Oh how I love my servitude. Did I just say that? What does it mean? I’m free. I can shop alone in the supermarket, I can watch TV 24/7, I can see my mum on Skype. And after all it’s only while we flatten the curve. The NHS is at crisis point. People are dying in the streets. Gritters come in the dead of the night to pick up the corpses. A round of applause for the key workers. How about a round of applause for me?
I complied. I cowered behind the sofa. I stopped using the same bathroom as my wife. I used a bucket instead. We both wear masks. We never touch each other, we communicate with What’s App. My hands are red raw from sanitiser. I have a rash around my mouth. My breathing is impaired. You selfish bastard, my hands and my rash are worse than yours. Your breathing is better than mine. And you’re only wearing three masks.
Life is shit. Life is joyless and truly appalling. But at least I’ve got a life, unlike the two billion who have died from this virus, and but for the Covid deniers it would have been only one billion.
When will it end? Covid is the gift that keeps on giving. I’m not sure I want it to end. I don’t have to think about anything. I’m safe. I’m just a hollow shell. Thank you Boris.
Bur things do seem to be going on around the world. Denmark, the Isle of Man, Myanmar, Taiwan. Why is that? Psyop?
Hang on though, it’s good to stop thinking. It feels peaceful here. I feel at home. It’s strangely pleasant, and God forbid, the word “hope” just popped into my mind.
I’m getting a bit fed up of hiding behind the sofa. Maybe I’ll go out, maybe I’ll feel the sun on my face, maybe I’ll appreciate nature…maybe life has changed.
For the better.
Jack Stewart, 9 February 2021. Love to you all.