On this episode of The Days of Our Virus, we find cockroaches posing as humans who can’t be dead, imposing further implantations from their boot of shyte upon our necks, eliminating most everyday freedoms we took for granted just a few weeks ago.
Their ‘special reports’ of shitf**kery have the apathetic’s and ignorant’s doing exactly what they want them to do – turn on each other.
Neighbor is now shaming other neighbor if they speak a narrative that doesn’t have the boot of the government halfway up their arse. Of course, it’s all done on the online parlor, sitting in what use to be one’s living room or home office but now has been turned into a jail cell. Instead of the guards bringing you food, you now have 2 choices – for now – attempt to drive incognito to the local grocery store and nowhere else for semi-sustenance, where a rabble of zombies are searching for human flesh to berate, or have your local restaurant deliver lukewarm culinary delights to your jail cell.
The little of life that was beautiful has been vanquished. Just temporarily, of course. For in a scant
two weeks, four weeks, a few months – the cockroaches are telling the half dead that this beast of a virus, that is faster than a speeding bullet, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, and can live on inanimate objects for 5 minutes, 10 minutes, half a day, kicking the ass of all other viruses that just might be living thereupon on the same inanimate objects – all will be better, they hope.
The relentless torture tactics are ratcheted up with each day with breathless reports of life in the ‘new normal’. Which is nothing more than living in a bubble, wearing a suit of plastic, with cotton over your nose and mouth, looking longingly at your mate through cheap goggles asking them if they remembered the touch of each others skin.
This afternoon, my 35 year-old son, who is now living here at the Asylum because he was laid off from this job due to State dickheads’ mandates that forced the closure of his former place of employment, made the simple but to-the-point observation while watching the guy with orange hair, with his column of dickheads at this side, still not practicing the social distancing they tell any and all they must comply with, that these shysters displayed a grand uncertainty of what they are certain about.
Gassed into uncertainty is what these shysters practice – the apathetic’s and ignorant’s count on it with the dawn of each day, where they tune into their hand-held radiation device for instructions from the cockroaches.
Watch and weep of the shitf**kery (just a scant 5 mintues)
Further lamentations of the lives of you and your loved ones can be expected. Embrace your tank.
Or…. maybe choose to embrace common sense, and spend a mere hour, for your being and those of whom you love:
Tonight’s musical offering: