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Well-wishes from the Wishing Well
Metzger's Pandemic Apathy I
Ancestors get worshipped when they earn it.

What a terrible misfortune that our elders will bear the brunt of the epidemic – you know – that army of privilege-doers that labored to make our homeland what it is today. To think their institution will finally fail them; their going not-so-softly into that not-so-good-night doesn’t resolve to just irony. Boomers, I pray thee – flee now as you’ve fled so many instances past, blind to the cracks in the pavement, quiet to cries of your peers’ failures, numb to the body count began centuries ago.
The most powerful nation. The greatest of wealth. Squandered in the same exact fashion it has for millennia – building playboys, venerating them, defending them. Meanwhile, the truth of corruption and the failure of capital is revealed and readily available to know, to act on if honor permits. Or not. Rather than an indelible mark on the social consciousness, you left an outline in a couch cushion. You took potential and opportunity and traded it for comfort.
What might have this generation accomplished, instead of two dozen varieties of sport-utility vehicle and a putrid planet? Equity? Fairness? Justice? Heh… Sounds like more poor-people problems, doesn’t it, old guard? Well luckily there’s one more escape raft for you. Turn your back once more. Turn towards your future – your gourney awaits.
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