Browse Category: Social Commentary

Cover Your Pie Hole

Who was that masked man?

If the Mask Fits, Wear It

There was a time in human history when we used to chuckle at people who wore masks out of fear of catching SARS or Swine Flu or what-have-you (or what you have). Now we all hide our smirks behind masks for fear of catching the COVID-19, aka: the “novel coranavirus,” aka: the “Chinese Wuhan Flu.” But what is in a name? A virus by any other name is just as deadly. Actually, no it isn’t. Many thousands around the world have died in the past few months.

So here we all are: wearing masks. Is that piece of cloth on my face effective? No, not really. That virus could go right through that fabric as if the strands were miles apart. So could 50 million other viruses and bacteria. Granted, it would keep my sputum (lovely word) from flying out of my face if I coughed or sneezed. I’m sure it would make everyone around me in a grocery store feel better.

And that right there is the primary driver behind this phenomenon of wearing masks, especially masks that are not medical grade. It makes everyone around you feel safe. Regardless of the fact that your act of breathing launches millions of virus cells into the air right through your mask, the rest of us feel warm and safe. Of course, I’m assuming your guilt of being a virus carrier without due process here. You just keep your mask on and I’ll keep mine on and we will do this little corona dance around each other and feel happy and secure and good about ourselves. I’m wearing a mask because I care about you. My mask won’t prevent you from being infected if I’m carrying the virus. But, dude, I care. We’re all in this together. Things will get better. If you get sick and die, don’t blame me. I’m complying with protocol.

Complying with Protocol

It’s not that it’s a good idea to put non-medical grade cloth in front of my face. It’s not that any of us used our common sense or honest care for the well being of our fellows. We were told we have to cover our faces. It’s a signed order from our governor. It’s not proven that the practice prevents the spread of the virus or even that it reduces the risk of spreading it. But we have been ordered to do it. I would feel better if we were all issued a medical grade mask that actually blocked the transmission of viruses and bacteria. That would make sense to me. That would be something that has been proven to be effective. But this isn’t something sensical. It’s an order to cover your face. Use a scarf, a cloth, a sock, a flimsy dust mask from Home Depot. Just cover your goddamn face so we can all feel better. That’s an order.

Cover Your Stupid Face

So let’s all cover our stupid faces so we don’t catch more stupidity from each other. I really question the whole idea of evolution. Are we evolving? Are we getting any smarter? I see lots of evidence that we are devolving. It’s masked behind our group think. Let’s leave it there for now. Let’s wear our masks, smile, and wave. Or don’t smile. Smiling is pointless under the circumstances. You probably won’t wave either. Wearing a mask seems to make us invisible to each other too. When people are in public with masks on they seem less inclined to acknowledge each other. It’s like our masks all have the text, “Fuck off,” printed on them. Our masks don’t hold back any germs but they sure make it hard as hell to hear the word Hello from anyone’s mouth.

I must stop here. This mask makes my glasses fog up and I can’t see well enough to continue.

Je suis Charlie


Remembering the victims of the Charlie Hebdo massacre:

Frédéric Boisseau, Franck Brinsolaro, Jean Cabut, Elsa Cayat, Stéphane Charbonnier, Philippe Honoré, Bernard Maris, Ahmed Merabet, Mustapha Ourrad, Michel Renaud, Bernard Verlhac (Tignous), Georges Wolinski.

I urge you to read Open Letter: On Blasphemy, Islamophobia, and the True Enemies of Free Expression by Charb (Stéphane Charbonnier).

Criticizing a religion is not racist.

Criticizing religious zealots and terrorists is not racist.

Islam itself is not a problem.

People who want to silence others are the problem.

People who want to kill others in the name of a religion are the problem, be that religion Islam or Christianity or Judaism or vegetarianism.

(The above drawing is my response to an attack at an exhibit featuring cartoons of Muhammed. More information can be found at this Wikipedia page.)

Written By Some Perverty Bum

On the back of a pew in the balcony of a church

While I was walking up the stairs, though, all of a sudden I thought I was going to puke again. Only, I didn’t. I sat down for a second, and then I felt better. But while I was sitting down, I saw something that drove me crazy. Somebody’d written “Fuck you” on the wall. It drove me damn near crazy. I thought how Phoebe and all the other little kids would see it, and how they’d wonder what the hell it meant, and then finally some dirty kid would tell them – all cockeyed, naturally – what it meant, and how they’d all think about it and maybe even worry about it for a couple of days. I kept wanting to kill whoever’d written it I figured it was some perverty bum that’d sneaked in the school late at night to take a leak or something and then wrote it on the wall. I kept picturing myself catching him at it, and how I’d smash his head on the stone steps till he was good and goddam dead and bloody. But I knew, too, I wouldn’t have the guts to do it. That made me even more depressed. I hardly had the guts to rub it off the wall with my hand, if you want to know the truth. I was afraid some teacher would catch me rubbing it off and would think I’d written it. But I rubbed it out anyway, finally.
I went down by a different staircase, and I saw another “Fuck you” on the wall. I tried to rub it off with my hand again, but this one was scratched on, with a knife or something. It wouldn’t come off. It’s hopeless, anyway. If you had a million years to do it in, you couldn’t rub out even half the “Fuck you” signs in the world. It’s impossible.
I was the only one left in the tomb then. I sort of like it, in a way. It was so nice and peaceful. Then, all of a sudden, you’d never guess what I saw on the wall. Another “Fuck you.” It was written with a read crayon or something, right under the glass part of the wall, under the stones.

That’s the whole trouble. You can’t ever find a place that’s nice and peaceful, because there isn’t any. You may think there is, but once you get there, when you’re not looking, somebody’ll sneak up and write “Fuck you” right under your nose. Try it sometime. I think even, if I ever die, and they stick me in a cemetery, and I have a tombstone and all, it’ll say “Holden Caulfield” on it, and then what year I was born and what year I died, and then right under that it’ll say “Fuck you.” I’m positive, in fact.

Holden Caulfield in “The Catcher in the Rye,” Chapter 25

Take a Look at This

Maybe dad is the one who needs the braille here. He’s not looking where mom and child are looking. Or maybe it’s not dad. Maybe he’s some creep who is checking out mom.

I know you’ve been keeping an eye out for a blog post from me. This one doesn’t appear to be much. But take a look.

This package has braille on it. It was the only package I saw as I wandered around this store. It was somewhere near the center of the store. All I could think was, if a blind guy came in here trying to find this particular item, which is highly likely since this product is specifically marketed to those who consume braille, how would he find it in the middle of this store? He would have to touch every other item up and down the aisles until he found this one. He would undoubtedly knock some products on the floor. If he put them back on the shelf, how would he know they were right side up or not? The store would potentially be a wreck by the time he got to this one pack of crackers that was thoughtful enough to provide braille for sightless shoppers.

That’s how I see it.

All My Ducks In A Row

Does the phrase, “I got all my ducks in a row,” have significance if you only have two ducks?

If you only have two ducks, aren’t they in a row by default? The shortest distance between any two ducks is a straight row, right?

So, automatically, everyone has some of their ducks in a row.

Unless, of course, you only have one duck. Then your duck is just lonely. That’s a different problem.

I have two ducks. Two’s company. Three’s a crowd. I’ll keep it simple with two and tell you, “I got ALL my ducks in a row.” As long as you don’t delve into my ducks you’ll never know that things look orderly merely because I’m operating with only two ducks.

Quack. Quack.