The Adaptive Curmudgeon has a few choice words about COVID-19, National Public Radio, and the denizens who frequent it.
I had the radio on. I’d tuned to a talk show which I was ignoring.
. . .
“A risk you take…” The radio was saying.
My curiosity was piqued. What interesting radio topic had matched my inner thoughts?
“They crawl all over you so it’s hard to stop… but it’s still a hazard to be cognizant of…”
What hazard crawls all over you? They had my full attention now.
“Your cat can get Covid from you so…”
What. The. ****!
It was NPR. G-ddammit! America’s ever-present, continuously preaching, massively woke, propaganda distribution system never sleeps.
Some unaccomplished retread was interviewing a ****ess wonder. The topic was ‘how to make sure your housecat is safe from Covid’. That’s the ‘hazard’ they were talking about. I listened a bit more just in case it was satire. Does Babylon Bee do radio?
It wasn’t satire. They were serious, or at least as serious as something that unserious can be. Does a cat owner’s vaccine protect the cat during risky behavior, like letting fluffy sit on your lap?
It’s a ****ing cat. It ****s in a box! It’ll eat a raw mouse. Cats lick their own ***** until we cut their ***** off to keep them from making more useless damn cats.
Yet, this was a “hazard”. This was “risk”. NPR’s limp, ineffectual, soyboy losers were evaluating the “physical dangers” of petting a housecat! In a world where desperate people fall off airplanes trying to flee Afghanistan, NPR used its vast network of antenna for a call-in show about how Covid might make a cat sick or the cat might inexplicably give it back to you. These people walk among us.
Can there be anything more pathetic? Some of us crash through the forest in a chaotic symphony of fear and exhilaration. Others, fear to pet a cat.
Anyone who’s so afraid of illness that they worry the cat will die… they’re completely irrelevant. Consulting their opinion is like taking advice from a houseplant. What does it know about being human? What has it done? Where has it gone? What wisdom has its unfulfilled life of photosynthesis taught it that we, the people who actually live, can use?
America is best when we ignore cessile, inert, semi-sentient, weaklings. Without the spark of life that makes the world so wonderful, they crawl up their own *** and weep while clutching cell phones. They may not know it, but they’re dead already. They’re not at the boisterous bar I just left. They’re not on the dusty mountainside where I spent a delightful afternoon. They’re not pissing in the grass under a full moon. They’re just… nothing. Being so deeply deeply deeply risk averse they’ve taken the glorious gift of life and turned it into a mockery. A lifestyle of waiting for the clock to run out.
The biggest tragedy in modern society is when we equate people who do with those that talk. Gutless losers don’t belong at the adult table with the rest of us. Don’t ask their opinion about anything. Give ‘em a juice box and a pat on the head. Then send ‘em back to their padded collegiate playpen where they can live out their days amassing debt and wallowing in fear.
There's more at the link.
Isn't it nice to find an island of sanity in the COVID-19 hysteria bombarding us from all sides? Fortunately, there are many of them out there, if one looks. (I hope this blog is among them, for most of you.)
As for cats and COVID, Miss D. and I have already had at least two bouts with the disease. So far, the only reaction of our cats has been pleasure at being able to snuggle up in bed with us, and displeasure that we no longer hurry as quickly to do their bidding where milk, tuna and other pleasures (including cleaning the cat box) are concerned. "Hey! You! Slow human! Get over it, already! We're hungry!"
Peter