STFU about "All in this TOGETHER!"
The Hollywood Idiots have stopped making PSAs about sacrifice . . . from their mansions in Malibu. The videos about "All In This Together" evaporated. The collective psyche capitulated, and not resolved to push back. Will we ever?
"Where have all the stooges gone? No more Hy-Per-Bo-Lee.
Where have all the stooges gone? Bored like you and me."
Sung, of course, to the tune of that stupid Peter, Paul, and Mary song of the stoner 60s, or was it the acid-tripping 60s and 70s? Doesn't matter. Yet another dopey piece of music put together by a band of drug-addicts, off-key untrained warblers, and Dylan wannabes.
Which should tell you all you need to know, since Dylan couldn't sing, play an instrument, or write music. Just like the Rolling Stones.
Have any of you mask-wearing dopes noticed something in and around the noise floor that is Facebook, YouTube, Twitter, and God help us, LinkedIn?
Those depressing PSAs of obsequious Hollywood Idiots telling us we're all in the together while broadcasting from the marble-floored recesses of their Malibu excesses have vanished like Harvey Weinstein.
The ballet companies of the world have ceased putting together public service announcements of prima ballerinas and male principals going through their barre exercises while leaning on ironing boards, work benches, and each other. In the background, the needle has been lifted from the majestic Montagues and Capulets track from Romeo and Juliet.
Exercise fanatics no longer make video introductions. Their home gyms, which simulate 487 different pieces of exercise equipment, are beyond the reach of an ever-fattening population.
Advertising agencies stopped casting joyful families of four cooking all their meals at home; playing Rummy Cube late into the night; and sitting on their patios with a ZOOM cocktail party in front of them.
The psychological limit of patience has been reached on a national level. It may have to do with the [HASHTAG] Flattening Of The Curve, another item which disappeared into the ether of Sonny "The Ventilator" Cuomo's slaughtering of the elderly and Gavin, Gretchen, and Garcetti's lack of any other public health policy save for "One Size Fits None."
To further depress everyone, there is no way out. There is, but it would mean a large majority of complacent Americans would have to sponsor a bonfire of masks; return to their mundane 9-5 existence; and inform the spoiled and entitled that they are returning to the classroom in the Autumn, and I don't mean the children.
I'm sure the teachers won't take that last one sitting down. Actually, they would take it sitting down, one of the few things at which they're proficient.
I'm doing my best. I never wear a mask while exercising, outside walking, or driving. I only put it on in grocery and drug stores, since I can't get in without it. I may stop doing that to see what happens. The contemptuous looks from those Krazy Glued into their useless cloth/paper impediments stopped bothering me in 1957, the year of my birth.
We are dining outdoors whenever and wherever possible. Indoors in Maryland and Delaware. We were all set to do so here in NYC, but Bill de Blasio couldn't bear the thought of so many happy New Yorkers that he squelched it based on a rise in cases from Arizona.
Arizona is about 2500 miles from New York, and most of the cases are along the border with Mexico, as is the case in Texas, and to a certain degree California. de Blasio is so high most of the time, I'm sure he couldn't find Arizona on a map . . . of Arizona. I can assure you I'd be going into the office by now, but even when I was freelancing in film production, I worked from home 90% of the time. This ain't a big lifestyle change for me, but it is for you.
Some of you don't want out of this Gun In The Mouth lifestyle. You hate your jobs, Donald Trump, and most other human beings.
Most of us do want out. We like our jobs; dislike, but tolerate, politicians; and find the human race annoying, but necessary for our emotional and mental well-being.
So please, wear a mask in the shower. Take the kids for a day out to the backyard, if you have one. And continue to tell the boss you're not coming back until there's a 100% fool-proof, never fail, guaranteed-to-kill-CV19 vaccine. Then, and only then will you return to FantasyLand.
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