How horrible would it be to one day find out your beloved personality quirks irritated the hell out of 98% of the people around you?
Pretty crushing, I’m sure.
No need to fret. The following test has been scientifically formulated to put you on the right path of social normality — simultaneously determining the 2 major factors that currently affect your life the most:
A. Am I Respectful, CoronaSmart Human?
B. Am I a Fucking Douchebag?
Go grab a pen and paper.
Read the following questions, and add 2 strokes each time you answer Yes/Correct. If you respond with Nay/Erroneous, only stroke once.
If you stroke more than 108 times during this quiz, you likely have a masturbation problem.
1. Do I wear a top-of-the-line surgical mask and disposable gloves when I drive in my car, all by my lonesome, to pick up a half-priced treadmill waiting for me at the Canadian Tire curbside pickup, committed to shed the 30 pounds I’ve gained during lockdown while watching Netflix and boredom-eating?
2. Do I feel guilty walking 2 feet down a supermarket aisle to grab a jar of Mushroom Ragu, knowing I’m in clear violation of a decaying one-way sticker on the floor?
3. When someone sneezes, is my go-to comment: “Ooh, COVID, hahaha!”
4. Do I elbow-bump people instead of shaking hands?
5. Do I apply hand-sanitizer after masturbating in the shower?
6. Do I routinely purchase meat products that contain mechanically-separated pork, chicken, or turkey?
7. Do I step off the sidewalk curb to avoid being within 6 feet of some diseased douchebag motherfucker gleefully walking their yappy, piece-of-shit micro-dog?
8. Have I ever referred to Game of Thrones as GOT?
9. Have I ever refused a family member to visit my domicile because a guinea pig might count as the 5th in my household?
10. Have I ever said to anyone: “Hey dude, wanna binge-watch season two of Felicity?”
11. Have I ever gone down a playground slide in the dark, possibly while drunk, and suffered near decapitation because some COVID-fearing-fuckface wrapped a piece of orange fencing around the middle of the apparatus to deter public usage?
12. Have I ever been hit with a bag of bread because I encroached within 6 feet of a ninety-year-old fossil at Giant Tiger who was bulk-buying toilet paper, pasta, and slices of Wonder?
13. Do I realize “no-contact pick-up” doesn’t mean jack-shit if a 48-year-old cook in the kitchen rubs his balls religiously before slapping each burger on the grill?
14. Do I wear a cloth mask all day at work because I fear germs, then go home and suck my husband’s cock?
15. Am I secretly aroused by the smell of hand-sanitizer?
16. Have I wiped my bum in the last 3 months with toilet paper I bought because it was “on sale?”
16. Have I refused to go back to work because I fear “unsafe” conditions, knowing I make waaaay better money on CERB kickbacks?
17. Have I been part of a recent demonstration to show the world Black Lives Matter, while ignoring my previous mantra of, “Staying Home Saves Lives?”
18. Do I feel homophobic when my girlfriend sticks a finger up my ass?
19. Do I have a sign on my front lawn saying “I support front-line workers,” ignorant of the fact nurses are being laid off in droves because hospitals are empty?
20. Did I secretly hang a noose in Bubba Wallace’s garage?
Okay, nice work. Your test is now complete.
Determining Your Score
Spend a moment to tally your strokes, then click here to uncover your status:
Let’s attempt something ridiculous here: summing up the human ego in a 1500-word essay.
Not possible, you say?
Perhaps, but I rarely shy away from a personal challenge. I even decided to waste 32.5 words writing this short intro, because my ego doesn’t “believe” in failure.
Hm. Our perfect place to start…
What is belief?
An amazing thing. It’s a word bandied about as carelessly as “love.”
I love my wife, I love beer. I love my kids, I love my car.
I believe in God, I believe in science. I believe in aliens, I believe we’re alone in the Universe. I believe in monogamy before marriage, I believe hand-jobs in high school make you popular.
I believe, I believe, I believe…
Jesus, I fucking hate that word. When someone starts a sentence with “I believe,” you can pretty much guarantee open-mindedness won’t be part of the forthcoming conversation.
Why is that?
Because beliefs are egoic definitions. If you rag on someone’s belief, you attack the very nature of who they think they are. And, no surprise, that pisses ‘em off.
True debates between humans don’t really happen anymore. Not in a typical Western setting, anyway. You ever shut your mouth, sit back, and listen to two people talk? It’s fucking punishing. All they do is take turns babbling about themselves, waiting for the other to trail off so they can begin again, not listening to a fucking word the other is saying unless it relates to a story about themselves, which they grab hold of and twist into their own relevant tale.
If you haven’t noticed by now, people are really, really into themselves. Listening is a dead art. The name of the game is me, me, me. And in order to define me, me, me — the ego — it’s necessary to continuously expound the components that comprise me, me, me — beliefs.
Without making this too much of a semantics game, let’s point out the inherent problem with the word belief — at its simplest level, it means “I don’t really know for sure, but the model serves my current understanding of reality.”
That would be fine and dandy if people recognized this. But they don’t. Despite learning new information that makes a belief obsolete, humans will choose to desperately cling to their “models” as long as possible, only kicking it to the curb when a direct experience gives them no choice but to admit their understanding was erroneous.
Why is this so?
Because beliefs are integral to their ego-personality. To redefine a belief means redefining self, which most people are terrified to do. It’s an admission of fallibility. It’s an admission of being stupid. It’s an admission: “All the shit I’ve been spouting the last 20 years is fucking wrong, so what does that say about my worth on this planet?”
The ego doesn’t like that.
Direct experience trumps a belief.
Have you ever heard a human utter any of the following phrases?
I believe in gravity.
I believe in the sun.
I believe in rain.
I believe jamming a hot poker up my ass might cause irritation.
Of course not.
Because we’ve all experienced those things first hand. Well, maybe not the hot poker thing, that was just stupid comedy. But how many of us have met God face to face? How many of us have walked on the moon or been to space? How many people lived 65 million years ago to know a comet wiped out the dinosaurs? How many of us have carbon-dated soil to corroborate any of the asinine theories our loving scientists dictate to us as fact?
Pretty much fucking none I know, myself included.
But that doesn’t stop people from saying, “I believe in God. I believe in global warming. I believe a statistically irrelevant virus is killing humans all over the planet, so I’ll put on a surgical mask, rubber gloves, and stand six feet away from my loved ones for the rest of my days, while following ludicrous one-way stickers until the media tells me I no longer have to.”
Not having direct experience to prove or disprove information proffered is of no consequence in these situations, because the ideas are integral to defining one’s ego.
Unless you’ve experienced a thing first-hand, your “belief” is nothing more than theory. Ego-defining theory.
Why is that so difficult to understand?
Because of fucking science.
Science is supposed to be our unbiased tool to help us understand the reality we live in. It’s supposed to be dispassionate in observation, encompassing all things existential. The scientific method is simple and logical: create an hypothesis, run an experiment, examine the results. Do the results jive with the hypothesis? If yes, run more experiments to validate. If no, develop a new hypothesis, and always stay vigilant that your next observation may make your theory obsolete. Simple.
But if you haven’t been paying attention for the last 300 years, science ain’t about impartiality. Science doesn’t like discarding theories when a shitload of money is at stake. Science has become our new global religion.
The junk theories that are bandied about as “fact” are truly insulting to our species. Well, insulting to people who can still manage a critical thought once in a while. There are enough people out there who question shit in the comfort of their home, saying, “Hmm, something about this doesn’t quite add up,” but will never introduce the dialogue in public, for the basic fear of “holocaust denier syndrome.” That’s a media-driven condition that boils down to: “If you don’t accept the official narrative, you may be a radical, extremist, conspiracy-nutjob, or terrorist. We may even put you in jail, or delete your precious Facebook account.”
Most people won’t question a Fox News story declaring “stress” to be a leading cause of physical ailments. Why? Because the public can relate to “scientifically proven” findings through their own direct experience — overthinking mundane shit you feel the need to impossibly control tends to leave you tired, withered, and ill.
If they can make that simple connection, then why isn’t the corollary feasible? If science admits negative thoughts make you sick, why don’t they acknowledge positive ones can heal?
Scientists will concede the “placebo effect” is worthy of consideration, but will quickly run away from their tenured roundtables before expounding the implications of their findings.
If 30-75 percent of a control group is healed taking sugar pills as readily as the ones taking toxic drugs, shouldn’t that spark an incentive to throw a billion dollars toward a government-funded think-tank to understand why the effect is consistent?
You won’t see too many Fox News stories about healing cancer through laughter. Why? Because it’s absurd. Everyone knows that cancer can only be treated effectively by running repeated doses of poison through the body, in hopes the tumours die before a human’s will to live. It seems insane to write those words, but that’s the protocol of “advanced” medical treatment. We laugh at leech therapy, but let our loved ones go bald while being intravenously fed with toxic shit that would kill a puppy in one session.
What was that line from the Hippocratic Oath? Oh yeah:
I will neither give a deadly drug to anybody who asked for it, nor will I make a suggestion to this effect…
….unless I’ve been trained by the most advanced Western medical school on the planet to write prescriptions for toxins in lieu of making the effort to uncover what’s causing their illness. The 3-hour nutritional course I was forced to endure during my 10-year training to become a doctor has made me an expert in everything the body needs to be healthy.
If you ever consider opening a healing clinic, claiming cancer could be remedied through detoxification protocols or dietary change, I can probably guarantee a team of soldiers in flak-jackets will someday pound on your door with a warrant to shut down your quackery business, no matter how many testimonials you’ve amassed from people who are now cancer-free. If you want to operate a healing centre, it might be time to brush up on your Spanish.
I’m outta words, so let’s end this chapter.
What is belief?
What is ego?
A made-up story.
What is “reality?”
Belief and Ego.
You can spend the rest our your days on this planet conforming to rules and regulations that you’ve been taught, or you can imagine new ways to explore the Universe.
Fuck the enlightened new-age asshole who tells you about becoming one with everything. Fuck the guru who charges 2 grand to attend their seminar. Fuck the self-help assholes who have all the answers. Fuck me as well.
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JC, you out there? I’ve got some issues I need resolving. A fucking shitload of ’em.
I’m always with you, my child.
Sweet. But you don’t have to necessarily follow me into the toilet every time.
I’m not sure where to begin. This planet has lost its fucking mind. There’ve always been control issues in place, but now they’ve gotten completely out of hand. Common sense and rational thoughts are crushed by the daily fear campaigns continuously spouted by the TV machine. Feels like I’m surrounded by drones — automatons content to unquestioningly obey whatever new rulesets or guidelines constantly being dictated to them, no matter how illogical or asinine. What the fuck do I do?
Judge not, lest ye be judged thyself.
Hmm. Okay, that’s fair enough. But just for the record, no one says “ye” or “thyself” anymore in 2020.
Of course not, that’s why it sounds so kick-ass when I do it. Although I shared that insight more than 2000 years ago, the sentiment is just as apt today. And I thank you kindly for judging my choice of words.
Oh fuck, right. I’m still doing it. Sorry. Let me better explain why I’m bitching and whining today. It’s not about who’s right, who’s wrong, what’s real, or what’s fake, it has to do with the lack of open dialogue. It seems everyone is locked into a rigid belief system, completely unwilling to entertain thoughts that haven’t been dictated to them by “authority” figures — assholes with well-documented track records of lies, deceit, and self-serving manipulation.
Who’s everyone? What makes your belief system any different?
Okay, maybe “everyone” was unfair hyperbole. Yes, it’s true I’ve spent many years professing I had all the answers to whatever I was passionate about back in the day — diet, lifestyle, philosophies, and a shitload more. But I’ve seen through my rigidity. I’m ready to amend or outright dismiss whatever theories I currently hold dear about this reality whenever new insight is gleaned. There’s nothing left I can say I “believe” anymore. Direct experience trumps all.
And how is that so vastly different from those around you? Are you a more wonderful creature because you’re enlightened?
I never said I was enlightened, I simply said I wasn’t as rigid anymore.
So not enlightened, but more advanced, more evolved? Flaccid?
Stop it. I’m not trying to sound superior. Just saying I wish society could be a little more open-minded to discuss new ideas or possibilities.
Like you were you 15 years ago?
Fuck. Alright. Make your point already.
No need. Seems you already have. Care to summarize?
Hm. Yeah, okay. Thanks for ruining my angry rant by the way.
No problemo. Continue…
I guess everyone learns and grows at their own pace. It’s not a reason to judge. If someone’s not ready to entertain a message being shared, no amount of logic, reasoning, or (haha) “scientific evidence” will convince them otherwise. Arguments and debates are pointless without an open-minded forum.
The realization I once walked in the shoes of a person on the receiving end of my “superior” criticism becomes the foundation for new perspectives of interaction — Empathy. Understanding. Patience. Unconditional love. Shit like that. How am I doing?
Honestly, you sound a bit patronizing and preachy, but don’t sweat it. I’m in no position to judge. I spent my better years wandering the desert in shitty homemade sandals, trying my damnedest to share a message I thought to be worthy — and look where that got me! I don’t know how many people you’ve brought back from the dead, but let me tell you, at the end of the day, it still doesn’t give you street cred with any group afraid to move out of their comfort zone. So stop worrying about waking sleep-walkers, and focus on advancing new ideas with however many free-thinking disciples you find around you. Worst case scenario, someone nails you to a tree.
Haha, that’s encouraging! Any final thoughts on dealing with this screwball prison planet?
Indeed. Did it slip your mind that my story ended in a kangaroo court trial and brutal murder? No matter. Let me leave you with these words. Life will continually throw you curveballs you perceive to be “injustices.” This I promise. You can handle them in one of two ways: bitch and whine till the end of time, or explore endless creative solutions to advance your growth. You’ve always held the key to the lock on your chains.
Okay, nicely said JC. Although I’ve misplaced my key, I’m gonna start looking for it right now. Well, maybe after a beer.
Let’s look at our reality from a slightly different perspective.
We’re fixated on the physical world. That’s a given. The game is always about making money, acquiring possessions, maintaining our bodies, eating food, banging whores, and on and on. We develop our externally-oriented obsessions because that’s how our culture conditioned us from birth. We fall into lifelong funks because we prioritize “doing the right thing” before acknowledging the turmoil in our guts — that queasy inner voice crying out to us, “I have no desire to follow through with this shit!” before our egos respond with, “but I guess I have to, because those are the behaviours of a responsible adult.”
The mind is every bit an integral part of this physical universe as a house, car, or fancy new snowblower. So are our emotions. Though thoughts may seem intangible compared to big tits and bottles of wine, they’re every bit as important to survival as wearing warm clothes in the winter.
We give our thoughts and emotions low priority in situations that matter most, and let them run-wild over us when the price of a Tim Horton’s coffee goes up 15 cents. Thoughts and emotions are the building blocks of every decision we make in life, yet we wield these tools like oxygen-deprived chimps playing with Charlton Heston’s shotgun collection.
Perhaps the problem starts when we begin adopting ideas that aren’t ours, or building lives according to the suggestions of corporate entities who will never have our best interests at heart.
I remember a Stuart Wilde talk that used airline companies as an example of this “humans-come-last” business philosophy. The gravity-defying machines, and accompanying services we’ve come to rely on to facilitate rapid transit anywhere in the world, have evolved with only one thing in mind — maximizing profit. Catering to human comfort is an afterthought. The seats are too small (unless you’re a stunted 4-year-old Asian girl)… the food is processed, microwaved shit, not fit for wild dogs… a lowered tray table will crush you if the person in front attempts to recline… and the toilets are nowhere near big enough to fuck in anymore.
If you can’t pony up enough dough for a VIP spot at the front of the plane, you’re relegated to conditions that worsen each year, to the point oxygen-masks and life-vests will probably get removed from the “coach” sections to save billionaires an extra few cents per flight on fuel costs. And I haven’t even begun to comment on the insanity of not being allowed to carry a bottle of water or toothpaste past an x-ray machine, while Bic lighters, scissors, and electronic devices that “may interfere with control frequencies of the cockpit unless turned off prior to flight,” seem to be just fine. Are you fucking kidding me?
We continue using and supporting services that treat us like shit, and accept these practices as normal, knowing full well that share-holders and golden parachutes of CEO’s trump the priorities of Joe Average — despite the fact that without him, the business would never exist.
While on the topic of flying, I noticed another interesting quirk about the biz on my last trip — people are not boarded onto a plane with common sense in mind. They’re herded aboard with priorities based on how much money they’ve spent, or how early they booked their ticket.
Let’s say you want to fill a plane as efficiently as possible — how would you go about doing it?
You would start with everyone at the very back, and fill the rows from there, one by one, which would eliminate the problem of assholes standing retardedly in an aisle — made for anorexic super-models — trying to stuff baggage (which they have absolutely no need for on the flight) into overhead compartments, while the rest of the passengers stand stupidly inside an enclosed mobile bridge, wondering if someone may have had an untimely epileptic seizure up ahead.
That method of loading does not happen though. Big business dictates you obviously start with first-class — all the people sitting at the front of the plane, which of course gets the gridlock underway right off the hop. But that’s the only fair reward to the superior travel humans who have deeper pockets than the scum at the back.
Next, they funnel cripples and parents with snot-nosed punks into the metal tube, creating another clusterfuck of chaos, which sends a subtle message that being debilitated, or an active breeder, somehow puts you in a more important category of human than a single, able-bodied traveller who has the ability to walk onto an airplane and sit down without fuss in under 12 seconds — which would easily free up the aisles for the retards and gimps to fumble about.
And, even more bizarre, they hand out boarding numbers based upon when a ticket was purchased. It doesn’t matter that you’re sitting one row behind first-class in a window seat. The punishment for buying a last minute fare — diminishing interest accruement in the savvy, airway pioneers’ bank accounts — is to get lumped in with the “last-boarding-call” group — an unspoken and subtle statement to suggest you’re among the least important humans to be transported — the very opposite of first-class.
Filling window seats first would be far too logical — much better to have 3-deep seating where the aisle passengers need stand up two more times to add more traffic to an aisle too narrow for Jack Skellington to pass freely through without kneeing people in the face.
Now I personally don’t give a fuck about being last on any vehicle, and I’ve learned an infinitude of patience by standing behind old people in supermarket check-out lines, but it’s fascinating to note the system has been designed for the sole purpose of glorifying the almighty dollar, not to pamper the users supporting it.
Business first, people second.
As humanity gets squeezed out of the equation, no one seems to notice. Services get shittier, less effective, and more expensive on a daily basis, yet we keep going back to the trough for more.
Because were fucking idiots, and no one believes there’s a damn thing we can do to change our construct of dependence.
Let me share with you another story. Because I decided one day to cast off the usual routines of society, and begin a life of travel, I made the decision to give up my road vehicle. When I did that, I also gave up paying car insurance, renewing licence plates, worrying about maintenance fees, and buying gas.
You know the funny thing about no longer needing to buy gas? You stop caring about what price-gouging plots the crude oil barons are cooking up to fuck with the world. You stop the unconscious, mental note-taking of the most recent cost-per-litre every time you pass a petrol station, and you stop investing wasted energy into bitching about unfair prices — a game designed to keep you in perpetual emotional bondage.
[Side note: Even funnier to consider the outrage knowing that “dead dinosaur guts” were pumped out of the Earth, refined, put on massive tankers, and shipped all over the world for you to purchase at less than the price of a bottle of “spring” water]
It becomes highly entertaining to witness people in heated discussions about the fluctuations at the pumps (much like I used to do). Stuff like:
“Gas is up 10 cents today, what fucking bullshit!”
“Haha, I was smart, I filled up cheap yesterday on my way home, I knew it was gonna go up!”
If we added up the amount of time we spent thinking about filling our cars with fuel, we’d probably be shocked at how much energy we’ve squandered stewing over a problem we have no desire to rectify.
People will happily show up late for work to line up for an unplanned stop at the local fucking Esso if the price looks tempting enough, waiting in a car line for 20 minutes to save themselves a whopping 50 cents to top up a tank that was 10 litres shy of being full.
It’s nutty to consider that fluctuations in gas prices can slip people into foul and crusty moods just as easily as they can make it seem a lottery has just been won. It’s not until you emotionally divorce yourself from a specific situation that you’re able to glean any kind of unbiased insight.
So now we’re getting into the nitty-gritty of this chapter.
Why exactly does money control us the way it does? Is it just about necessity and physical survival, or have we missed something so completely obvious that, once learned, might just break us free of the endless grief and stress we fill our days with?
The answer lies in the same reason for quitting watching TV and following the news. Money is not just a facilitator for convenient trade, it’s an emotional mind-fucker we’re manipulated with on a daily basis — a control system we can break free from once becoming aware how it’s used against us.
Think of it this way. When you spend money on the latest electronic gadget, a car, house, new clothes, whatever, you’re not just trading paper dollars acquired through the physical labours of your job or career, you’re engaging in an emotional investment of happiness and self-worth. The more you spend, the greater your entanglement.
Money is more than a symbol of trade and wealth — it’s a form of emotional energy.
Television only exists for one basic purpose now — to control your mind, manipulate your emotions, and keep you in a dysfunctional marriage with the almighty dollar. It’s not a system to uncover solutions to life’s problems by sharing information to help our species evolve, and it’s not a means to provide comfort after a hard day’s work. It’s a tool to keep your true energies — the ones scientists call hokey, intangible, and not worthy of study — soaked up in an ocean of water-logged garbage.
Instead of paying attention to our simplest of feelings and intuitions — telling us what’s right or wrong, what decisions will serve or torment us, which humans we should or shouldn’t be spending time with — we choose to allow the outside world to mold and manipulate our desires, as we blow our loads on movies, TV shows, the tragedy-porn we call news, and the almighty dollar, leaving us too drained and exhausted to emotionally service ourselves.
Have people stopped driving or buying gas since I got rid of my car? Of course not. Has the world gotten any worse or better since I stopped following politics or watching the news? Nope, it’s all the same shit it’s always been. But one major change has occurred — I’m no longer emotionally invested in it. And that gives me the opportunity to constantly go deeper into myself, learning to trust and listen to the inner voice that’s always been there, the one drowned out by the manipulations of a world obsessed with material shit and ridiculous, contrived dramas.
You know what I’ve found? That voice is far more important to my physical health and well-being than any item I could ever purchase, or any advice suggested by corporations, religious institutions, or fancy government studies.
You don’t kick your woman to the curb when a relationship’s healthy, you do it to be rid of emotional insanity destroying your life.
Society has become our new psycho-bitch. If you’re looking to find some inner peace and tranquillity in your life, consider putting on your arse-kicking boots again.
The physical world is supposed to be our playland. But, as of late, it seems we’ve somehow given the swings and teeter-totters the power to control us. We used to ride, but now we’re ridden. We used to play, but now we’re played. We used to run, but now we’re being run over.
We’ve skewed our focus much too far away from where our true power lies — within. If you have the nerve to put your explorer’s hat on one more time, that might be the place you consider heading next.
The physical world will always be in bloom, but the true adventure into the unknown lies within.
From time to time, people accuse me of having a negative outlook on life. I’m not really sure why this is, considering I’m absolutely positive 90 percent of the humans walking this planet are entirely fucked in the head, but I’ll never be one to repress another’s right to express their opinion. That’s what freedom’s all about. When we start censoring ideas that the media tells us are “dangerous” (which of course would never, ever happen in our highly advanced and open society), that would be the time to start questioning whether our beloved regulators have our best interests at heart, or if they have an agenda of their own we might not be privy to.
So in order to demonstrate my spirit is riding high during these “unprecedented, difficult, and trying times,” I’ve amassed a list of some of the unexpected benefits and opportunities that have come to light in the midst of our planetary medical dictatorship.
The perks are unending! We’ll start with the basics: hideous people. No more fear of walking out of the house worrying you’re not quite up to snuff with Brad Pitt’s good looks. With a surgical face-mask, baggy coat, and slicked-back hair, there’s a good chance you’ll be mistaken for a young George Clooney! Though it’s difficult to chat up the ladies while standing 6 or more feet away from them in the check-out at the local Giant Tiger, when the bars and nightclubs re-open again 2 years from now, Miss Right will never have a clue how impossibly far you fall short of her physical ideal. With a few carefully practiced pick-up lines and witty anecdotes about surviving the lockdown, you’ll have had your hands in her pants a dozen times before she ever realizes you’re missing 18 teeth, and your breath smells of half-priced dog food.
Up next: people who like to rob shit. Society rarely considers how much grief and anxiety is involved standing in front of a liquor store, debating whether the pantyhose or ski mask are the appropriate attire for the task at hand. Well, forget that! Toss away your doctor prescribed antidepressants that bung up your sphincter, and enjoy culturally-approved anonymity, drug-free! You can also forget the stress of planning your next heist. If you choose to go out in public now wearing a rubber Ronald Reagan mask, I can guarantee no one will bat an eyelash. So as you approach a bank-teller with a question about usurious account fees, or stand in front of a cashier with a bottle of whisky or 6-pack of Hamburger Helper somewhere down the road, let your heart decide if it’s the right time to pull your gun to exercise a little “unsanctioned capitalism.” Spontaneity is the spice of life! Freshly ground pepper is pretty awesome too.
For the Ladies? Makeup. How much wasted time do you spend every morning “putting on your face?” Kiss those tedious hours goodbye, and keep your energies focused where they belong — updating your Facebook status and watching reruns of Friends. Aside from feeding the kiddies, and a lengthy line-up to roll through Tim Horton’s to pick up a disease-free latte, starting a new day will become as simple as donning a hat and mask. Forget the showers and leg shaving as well. No one’s ever gonna get close enough to you again to realize how badly your ‘pits smell, or how many Goldfish crumbs are lodged in your pubic hair. It won’t be long before the “North American Burka” becomes the norm, dispelling your holier-than-thou judgments about the backward, mysogynistic cultures you’ve been taught to hate. Sure, maybe you’ll want to keep a little eye-liner in your pocket o’ tricks to impress the hunky guy who hauls your trash once a week, but you’ll never again be part of an ongoing experiment by beauty corporations to find out what 10,000 chemicals, secretly buried in lipstick, foundation, or shampoo, unknowingly do to your body. Forget showing off cleavage, eyes are the window to the soul!
Here’s an unlimited opportunity. I’m no sleeping prophet, but I’ll go on record predicting that “social distancing” ain’t gonna be forgotten any time soon. So why not then make the best of a situation that’s been forced upon you? If you can earn a few bucks creating ideas that help save lives, by preventing disease-spreading-motherfuckers from approaching you, I say run with it.
Idea 1: Spike vests.
If you’ve ever watched the absurdity of a fashion show — you know, where tall, weird-looking, anorexic humans walk down a runway wearing outfits that some emotionally-disturbed queer designed for shock value because trending media dictated he was the latest “in” thing — then this idea might not seem so ludicrous.
No need to fear anyone contaminating you with their filthy diseases while wearing this fashionable number at your next bar mitzvah. Huggers can go fuck themselves. Forced social distancing is IN!
Idea 2: The Sawbrerro.
Pretty simple. When someone tries to approach you unwantedly, shaking your head to indicate, “no, don’t do it asshole,” will take on new meaning if the disease carrier gets too close, and quickly finds their nose separated from their bacteria-laden fuckface. It’s a mistake they’ll never make again.
Idea 3: Winter Wear.
Already done. If you copy me, you’re just a sad, pathetic shill.
Idea 4: Bear Trap Mittens
Can you believe some assholes out there still consider hand-shaking to be a normal activity? Un-freakin-believable. So here’s one to deter those gropey mass-murderers from ever sticking their diseased hands in your face again…
That’s all for now. Hopefully I’ve inspired a few readers to feel as bubbly as I do, as we patiently await a single miracle vaccine that will one day eradicate this heartless, microscopic scourge from the face of the Earth. As we stand in line at our forced vaccination clinics a year from now, still wearing face-masks and maintaining a 6-foot personal radius, life will finally start returning to normal.
We can only hope our miracle cure is as effective as the one we developed for influenza. I’m positive medical science won’t let us down.
Next Post: Viral mutations, and why thrice-yearly COVID shots will become as natural as brushing your teeth. See you then!