“I am being direfully afflicted by angry gods.”

-A Medical Doctor, 3/5/21

“We are not the government!” came the frantic announcement, over and over and over again, as the Coastal Starlight train took us few souls down the Pacific Coast in mostly empty cars. Last year, as the Dread Minus felled hundreds of millions and bodies were stacked like cordwood on the streets, Amtrak asked us to mask up and we did, unless two like-minded suicides were sitting together away from others.

This year, as lethality falls rapidly despite as many as 75% of reported deaths being from other causes, hysteria is the rule among the Amtrak employees. The concession man threatens us with government power to maroon us at the top of Grant’s Pass if we wear the mask in any manner other than federally dictated. When chewing one must replace the mask and eat under it. This rant goes on every hour as the people displaced from job loss travel to a new shithole town.

The man behind me rants like a madman, driven to insanity by the constant, unrecorded, adlib messages by panicked employees.

The conductor gets on the line and apologizes for enforcing the “debatable” mask edicts, which have outlawed gators, bandanas, veils, face shields and most other masks for the pseudo-medical paper one which projects the sneeze laterally for best spread of virus, rather than down like a bandana.

“We are not the government! We are employees—we are only doing our job!” he pleads stridently to those of us just trying to sleep behind our masks and trying not to get left to die in the wilderness for drinking improperly with the mask. I was hoping he would do a Struther Martin imitation from Cool Hand Luke, but he was truly terrified of something, either being cited for lack of piety or attacked by a mob, despite the fact that we were all meekly passive about the masks. The train ticket had its largest paragraph dedicated to style-based, not science-based rules about masks.

…

A Sacrament of Style

I had left Portland two days after seeing a homeless man being beaten by three hipsters for not wearing a mask inside the Dollar Tree. If this was about disease, why did these three social justice enforcers insist on exchanging breath with this guy at grappling range?

Because this is really just about style, why the kid in England was arrested for wearing a plague mask [the most appropriate kind] and why many folk glared at me on the street for unmasking outside. America is such a shithole country that our answer to the only pandemic ever to sweep humanity from the face of the earth is largely a matter of fashion conscience.

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Muzzle for the Mindless Masses

The American meat-puppet, most abject of his complaisant kind being the supposedly revolutionary Boomer addicted to worshipping government edicts as scripture and media hysteria as gospel, is so deluded that it thinks of its collective madness as “reason.” My family in its entirety is declining to tolerate my presence, even with a mask on and 12-feet away, unless I get vaϲϲinated or tested, neither of which I will do. I have played the mask charade. I am not plugging into the delusion. I wish to remain in reality.

The delusion is so deep, one of my family members, worshipping Saint Joseph Who Abides, accused me of being political and committing the crime of holding principles above family, for not going along with the hysterical gaslit mob. I don’t even vote, don’t care what evil lich herds us for our owners. Yet phony “science” is being used to accuse me of being political for not believing in an untested, private, for profit health measure that has been indemnified against liability by our government handlers in case it harms us.

I see the mask as symbolic, a cultic vestment of a new faith, and believe it will never go away. Medical people call it a face diaper. It is certainly a vestment of our moral infancy. In Cube, a short novel of 2121, I predict that the mask will eventually give way to face-filtering devices, perhaps light head bands, that will screen for pathogens, display social conscience and popularity ratings and also serve cosmetic purposes.

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Master Verrrocchio’s Craft

There is something about the mask that promotes madness and cultic devotion. Witness masquerades, Halloween, the use of clown and hockey masks to terrify children and the death masks once crafted by men such as Verrocchio, Leonardo’s teacher. These funerary masks were intended to soften the blow of death, of placing a comforting or distancing or complimentary or edifying visage between the dead and the living.

Is the medically useless mask, that projects sneezes laterally, has gaps many times larger than the virus it is intended to stop, and harbors dangerous viral and bacterial agents for rebreathing, is that nothing more than a funerary vestment for a feedlot of cattle slated for an early harvest?

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Swab Sodomy

I have had discussions with a medical worker who heard two doctors four months ago discussing whether or not anal swabbing was going to be necessary. This man gets a lot of work in Washington State scanning lungs with a modality that brings the Dread Minus diagnosis out of the morass of false positivity. It is a fact that the Celestials suffered cruelly out of proportion losses to us Ghosts based on the fact that their apartment toilet plumbing vents fecal matter into living quarters and that virus is more prolific in poo than in spit. So, unlike mask cultism, anal swabbing has actual scientific evidence to back it up. I have it on good authority that the diplomatic envoys of Saint Joseph Who Abides have had to submit to anal swabs upon their entry into the Celestial Kingdom.

Will we be far behind—all puns intended?

Now, I suggest, in support of the LGBTQ community, that said swabs should be shaped like penises.

Also, as a matter of aesthetic decorum, the hateful lack of color otherwise known as white, prejudicially preferred for medical applications, should be replaced with an ebony-hued swab.

Perhaps the first dedicated swab for this purpose should be named after Hank Aron, who took one for the shamdemic team after all.