Hat Tip to the Conservative Treehouse on This COVID Story

So the Conservative Treehouse article reported that  there was an “outbreak” of COVID on Cape Cod where 469 people caught COVID and 74%were already fully vaccinated.  Among this large pool of people four were hospitalized and no one died.

My layman’s reaction to this is:

  1. COVID is very contagious.
  2. The vaccine isn’t good for much.
  3. COVID isn’t that dangerous to healthy people.
  4. The health officials in the US aren’t being very honest with us.

Cape Cod is where New Englanders go in the summer to vacation with their families and enjoy sun and fun.  Young and old go to parties and music concerts and weddings.  In the short summer season they enjoy life.  And that’s what that 469 people were doing when they caught COVID.  The idea that the solution is to stay away from other people and wear a mask over your face for the rest of your life is plainly insanity.

Enough is enough.

Normalcy Restored

That lying sack of crap, Anthony Fauci M.D., stole a year from us.  And more than a year.  He smashed millions of small businesses that took lifetimes to build up.  He drained away the life savings of a generation of hard-working people.  He interrupted and marred the education of tens of millions of children.  He imprisoned a nation of 330 million and delayed marriages, births and every hope and dream of a nation.  And the most horrible thing is that it was for no benefit whatsoever.  The same people who would have died from COVID did die and are dying despite all of the useless torture that was inflicted on the healthy population of our country.  He is a tin-pot Pol Pot.  May he roast in Hell.

But yesterday was a renewal.  Almost all the descendants of my parents were gathered together in one place and time and enjoyed a party that included all the familiar and life-affirming rituals of a summer get together.  And even the weather blessed us with perfection.  Eighty-two degrees, bright sun with just a few wispy clouds, bone dry air and a refreshing breeze.  Just warm enough for some people to go in the pool and just cool enough to let the young at heart toss around a baseball or play a few lawn games with their kids and grandkids and even let one person watch her great-grand-children play.

Camera Girl in her culinary wisdom decided that instead of a barbecue she would cook the traditional Southern Italian peasant feast.  Ziti baked with cheese, eggplant parmigiana, meatballs, sausage and to start with, our version of an antipasto.  Huge portions were devoured with zeal and fueled loud and animated shouting about amusing and nonsensical things.  And in my earshot, there was not a moment of political discussion or anger.  Spirits were higher than high.  The highlight of the day for me was a four-way catch with two of my grandsons and a nephew.  I haven’t really had a good long baseball catch since forever.  Even the afternoon sun that was directly in my eyes I found enjoyable.  I actually felt young again.  Maybe today my shoulder is a little sore but it felt fine while we were out in that golden sun.

When my younger daughter showed up with her little 2 ½ year old girl the baby was terrified by all of the old fat strange-looking men shouting to be heard over each other in the meal hall I set up with folding tables and chairs.  After all, she has spent her entire conscious life in lockdown and hardly saw anyone but her parents and grandparents.  A cacophony of sound and strange faces truly frightened her.  But her mother was smart.  She took the baby outside on the deck and then into the swimming pool that she loves and there she was able to meet and play with the other children and slowly by degrees bring her back to the crowded areas where even the loudest old men were, at this point, too gorged with food to make much noise or even move.  So even that residue of the Fauci curse was lifted.  From two to ninety-two everyone was partaking in an old-fashioned family get together.

And I will be honest when I say that the relief to finally all get together made this the most enjoyable, least stressful gathering I can ever remember.  By the time the pie and ice cream and coffee were finished and sun was long below the horizon everyone was satisfied and ready to gather their children and say their goodbyes and head back on the road to home.  But promises were made to get together at the other homes for other occasions and other holidays.  Labor Day and Thanksgiving and Christmas lie ahead.  And we have broken the ice and hopefully we won’t allow that creepy little man to steal anymore of our lives away again.  It’s over and normal life has returned.

Unmask!  Unmask!

Camera Girl has returned from the grocery store and miracle of miracles, the masks are gone.  So are the six-foot spacing rules and the arrows to tell you which direction you have to walk.  All in one fell swoop all those wonderfully comforting shackles have been removed!

I’ll have to go see if this has become general when I go to the hardware store to get some supplies to help me clean out my lawnmower carburetor.  But the report is that some hard-core maskers are refusing to let go.  This follows on the publication of such thoughtful crap as this gem entitled, “Excuse Me If I’m Not Ready to Unmask.”  So, these losers are going to walk around with that ridiculous scrap of fiber over their mouths and noses forever.  That really is a great metaphor for the religious fervor these idiots are exhibiting over something that everyone else has already learned is stupid.  Now that it’s good and hot it will be comical to watch these boobs hyperventilate as they try to breath in the stultifying environment they’ve senselessly maintained.

I wonder if that prize turkey Dementia Joe will continue to show up in videos wearing his black mask and huskily exclaim “Mask up!  Mask up!  It’s your patriotic duty!  Otherwise, you’ll pay the price!”  When and if he survives his time in office I wonder if “Doctor” Jill will sell off his still living carcass as an exhibit at Madame Tussaud’s in Washington, D.C. where crowds can push a button and an electric jolt will prompt him to utter his tag line “Mask up, mask up!” on command.

Anyway, the question that remains is whether we will have to go through this whole charade again in October when Pfizer will want to sell the federal government another ten billion dollars of vaccines for our own good.  It will be interesting to see if the smarter states just say no to the circus and throw Joe the finger.  Either way we have one more indication that our country is no longer the land of the free and the home of the brave.  We’re frightened slaves who cower at the crack of the whip and walk with heads bowed and eyes averted when the Deep State says so.  We allow our children to be indoctrinated with the lie that their families are evil people who deserve to be punished and dispossessed of all they worked for.

I’ll know that there is hope when the master says jump and someone finally tells him no.  Tells him no and makes it stick.  That’s the day I’ll feel some hope for this sad remnant of America.  Until then at least I can breath easy for now.  Thank you, Big Brother.

I Won Yalta

The world was divvied up.  I got everything I wanted.  My “allies” were stiff armed and I emerged triumphant.

Actually, none of those things are true.  The gathering was great.  There was music and good food and boisterous camaraderie.  We told stories and exaggerated our exploits in any number of old adventures from the “good old days.”  And we mocked the corporate “powers that be” and their toadies who are in charge of torturing us for fun and profit.  And we laughed at how lately things have been going sideways for them quite often.

And we had desserts, splendiferous desserts.  And we drank coffee and talked about those who were gone and planned our next gathering as the hours slipped away and a hot late-spring day became a fairly cold night.  And toasts were pledged and handshakes were exchanged and no one was silly enough to feel nervous about human contact.  The police never showed up and as I was driving away, I thought, “We’ve neglected to get together for a year because we were afraid of the Left?”

But we had been.  And not mistakenly, but of necessity.  The Left controls our lives.  They have the power to imprison us and make us paupers and take every good thing away from us, even our rights as Americans.  COVID and the BLM riots and the election fraud have made all those things clear to me and probably to millions of others.

And now that it’s clear we need to decide what we are willing to trade to escape from these people.  If I had lived in South Dakota then COVID would have affected me not at all.  I would still have had to live with the election fraud and maybe the BLM losers would have had a local presence somewhere in the urban centers but it would have been a mere shadow of the madness that went on in the Northeast and other blue areas.  In the fall when the flu season resumes the masks will be brought back and the Karens will shriek about the death that was waiting in the wings and now has come back to put them back in charge of making our lives miserable.

I’m trapped in place here for at least a year or two more.  But I’m guessing there are countless others who will take this opportunity to move to places with fewer Leftists and freer air.  And I envy those people.  It’s the right decision to make.  The only real question is which is the best place.  There are trade-offs having to do with employment opportunities and climate.  But all of these things are details that can be worked through if time and thought are taken.

My advice is take the time now and get the wheels rolling and start making it happen.  If you wait too long it just gets harder to break away from the encumbrances that grow up around you when you live somewhere for a long time.

Alright, end of rant.  The ice is broken and next week I’m hosting a Memorial Day family party, flush with barbecued meat, watermelon, corn on the cob, cake and ice cream and a swimming pool full of children and grandchildren.  And all I have to do this week is get the pool pH right and fix the gate on the pool fence.  Sounds about right.  The only fear I have is a patch of poison ivy that has crossed into the pool area and threatens the serenity of my favorite poolside deck chair.  But with the help of the Lord and my good right arm (not to mention a “liberal” coating of ivy-block to my face and arms) I shall prevail and restore order to the realm.

Let the games begin!

Yalta – 2021 (Sorta)

Toward the end of World War II the “Big Three,” Churchill, Roosevelt and Stalin got together for a conference in the Black Sea resort of Yalta.  Here they discussed the fate of the post-war world and possibly drank vodka.  Today a similar event will occur.

I’m trying to decide which one I am.  Based on my bloody-mindedness I guess Stalin might be the closest analogy.  But if politics is the measure, I’ll be Churchill.

I guess the analogy breaks down along the lines of world domination.  The issues that will dominate this conference will be the need to wash down sandwiches and potato salad with lemonade and beer.  I am donating the aforementioned potato salad and Camera Girl’s world-famous ricotta cheese cake.  There is talk of penny ante poker and Russian roulette but we’ll see about that.  I expect points of disagreement but also wide areas of concurrence.  My only unbreakable rule will be that I must be addressed as “Your Grand High Celestial Irritableness.”  That is like iron!

This conference occurs at a distinct juncture.  The Southern New England states are surreptitiously admitting that even their spineless inhabitants have stopped believing in the mask farce.  So, the authorities are grasping the miracle of the vaccine as the excuse for this retreat from mask idiocy and will officially allow us to return to near normalcy.  So, we are not expecting Karen to report us to the boys in blue.  But if they do show up, we intend to don black-face and stand on our George Floydian right to do whatever the hell we feel like and resist arrest by any and all means up to and including overdosing on fentanyl.  Or cheesecake.  That’s my preference.

Seriously, it’s pretty great finally getting together with good friends and celebrate summer appropriately.  This will be the first major reassembly of the Morning Coffee Walk in over a year.  We’ll probably keep the political discussion to a minimum only because it won’t facilitate good digestion.  But we will at the very least discuss Joe Biden’s squint.

And of course, because of this celebration there will be a noticeable lag in content today.  I’m sure all will agree that this kind of conference is worth the cost.  The proximity of such high caliber minds is sure to spark some amazing consequences.  We may discover anti-gravity or even lo-cal pizza.  So let the good times roll.  Boy, look at that cape FDR is wearing.  Maybe I need one of those.

The CDC Approves God’s Revised Air Flow Specifications for Planet Earth.  Outdoor Masks No Longer Needed.

It is truly amazing that the CDCD has only now discovered that people walking around in the open air basically pose zero chance of spreading COVID.  I wonder what they’ll discover tomorrow.  Maybe that the absurd masks that people are wearing do absolutely nothing to prevent sub-micron sized virus particles from moving in or out on the air they pass.

In the pharmaceutical industry sterile solutions are maintained bacteria free by using 0.2 micron or maybe 0.1 micron filters to remove the bacteria.  But no one pretends that they are excluding viruses.  During the final purification of a biological medicine nanofiltration is used to remove viruses.  The pore size for these filters is 35 nanometers which is equal to 0.035 micron.  And in reality, the viruses can only be filtered because they are first denatured by a change in the pH of the solution.  But let’s pretend that 0.035 micron is the filtration size needed.  What is the pore size of a bandana or even one of those wonderful hospital masks?  Well, assuming that half of the air doesn’t just move through the open sides of the mask where pore size would be measured in centimeters, the pore size of the cloth is more like 10 to 100 microns.  So what we’re talking about as a best case is that the openings of the mask are 285 times larger than what is needed to block virus particles.

Senator Rand Paul who is himself a medical doctor has on several occasions harangued Fauci to stop lying about the efficacy of masks and admit it’s just theater.  But Fauci will never do it.  He is like the village witch doctor shaking a rattle and burning incense to scare away the evil spirits that cause the disease that is afflicting the village.  His audience is invested in the lie and to admit now that they’ve suffered through a year of this nonsense and madness for nothing would be to admit they were fools or co-conspirators in the fraud.

But at least now that I’ve had my miracle injections, I am immortal and virtually above the law.  I could walk down the street and fire bullets helter-skelter into the crowd and if a policeman tried to stop me I’d merely flash my COVID vaccine card and he’d smile and loan me some rounds for a reload.  I’ve already accepted invitations for my first get togethers and am practically giddy with anticipation.  I will be breaking bread (and meat) across an indoor table with people I haven’t been face to face with in a year.  The fact that I had to be injected with quasi-dangerous pharmaceuticals to do it is an outrage and a crime but since Dementia Joe is now Leader of the Formerly Free World what could I expect?

Recently Camera Girl was listening to some idiotic news show and after hearing the talking heads yammer on about COVID she asked me if the vaccines would be needed every year.  I barked out a bitter laugh and said, “Oh absolutely.”  I think it’s finally dawning on her and a lot of other people that we are going to be tortured by these idiots from now on.

But I’ll bask in the glory of knowing I’ll be seeing human beings face to face very soon.  Small steps, small victories.

03MAR2021 – Free at Last, Free at Last

Texas and Mississippi have both announced that as of 3/8/2021 all mask and other restrictions on people and businesses for the COVID farce will be done with.

Oh man am I jealous.  But this is really good news.  As more and more states end this charade the remaining losers will look stupider and stupider.  I wonder what Fauci is going to do after this to garner attention.  He’ll probably want to declare the common cold a pandemic.  After all several cold viruses are corona viruses.  We can’t be too careful.

I’m going to celebrate the good news by burning my stash of face masks.  I’ll just keep the one raggedy one I’ve been using for the last year.  It’s tattered and I had to staple the elastic back on twice.  But I think it’s a feature not a bug that it gives the impression that I’m really not worried whether it does anything or not.  I’m thinking of punching some holes in it to make it easier to breath through.  Or maybe I can paint on a face mask every day I need to go out there.  You know, like those fake bathing suits they paint on models and movie stars.  It’ll look close enough to being a real mask that no one will be impolite enough to ask me if it’s real.  And if anyone does I’ll just talk in a muffled tone so they really get confused.

So kudos to Governors Abbott and Reeves for finally getting up the courage to end this nonsense for their citizens.  Now if only the losers in the northeast also wake up and smell the fresh air.

A Bonfire of COVID Masks

We are a week into the middle of winter and with the recent cold snap and with the snow that will be falling today and tomorrow I’m falling back into the New England mid-winter trance.  Luckily without my typical commute a lot of the wear and tear on my body and mind are reduced to a reasonable level.  In the past I would have to get up at 5 am and clear the snow for two hours before commuting to work and then drive home and still having to clear the rest of it in the dark before collapsing into bed.  Now with my new and improved lifestyle I get up at 7 am, eat breakfast, play blocks with my granddaughter for a little while then leisurely and efficiently go out and clear the snow once it stops falling.  I’ll probably break it up into two sessions with a meal in between to relieve the monotony and warm my old bones.  Camera Girl has made a really excellent Chicken Butter Nut Squash Soup so I’ll be properly fortified for the second half of the operation.

In my less demanding routine I have the chance to reflect on the unfortunate aspects of this new world that we live in.  Here we are almost a year into this absurd lockdown and most people in New England really believe that we are in the midst of the bubonic plague.  I half expect to see the cartman leading his pony around with the pile of cadavers shouting, “bring out your dead.”  The local tv coverage and the attitude of the people you meet when you do go out is that we are all struggling against unbelievable odds to survive the ravages of the Andromeda Strain.  Apparently, we’re all heroes now.  It sounds like the nonsense the Soviets used to spout every time the tractor factory came close to meeting the quota.  “All hail the revolutionary fervor of Assembly Line B Night Shift!”    When a country that did nothing about the virus like Sweden has, after a year, a slightly lower per capita death rate than a country like America, that threw all its small businesses off a cliff, you have to wonder just how detached from reality people are.

Based on the fact that California and New York are beginning to loosen the restrictions on such dangerous activities as opening your front door and breathing in the shower I am hopeful that by the end of winter we will at least be allowed to visit friends and relatives without the neighbors calling in a SWAT Team on us.  And that will be big.  I found that not seeing my various family members was the worst part of this travesty.  And not just family.  I have friends that I am dying to see face to face and share a burger and shoot the breeze with.  This lockdown is harming us physically.  It’s harming us mentally and it’s harming us spiritually.  As I’ve mentioned I’m reading Solzhenitsyn’s Gulag Archipelago.  And compared to the atrocities the Soviets perpetrated on their people even the lockdown is minor.  But it is related to what they did.  It is psychological warfare aimed at damaging people’s self-respect.  We’re caged animals and they ratchet the punishment up and down just to torture us.

So the cold weather is a perfect symbol of the Gulag that has been built for all of us living in the blue states.  Maybe now that Dementia Joe has been nailed up on his scarecrow pole in front of the White House they’ll let us free.  Or maybe they won’t.

I have one exceptionally cynical old friend who claims that we right wing folk are just sheep and no matter how much abuse is heaped on us we’ll just continue to take it without doing anything more forceful than complain.  He thinks that anything that’s going to happen will have to happen in a red state and even that will be in the nature of orderly and peaceable action.  I’m of a different opinion.  Even in the bluest of blue states, I think a point will be reached where people will revolt against this abuse.  Somewhere a spark will ignite the tinder and a crowd will start a bonfire of these stupid masks and put an end to this idiocy.  And I hope I happen to be nearby to join in.