At present, eight or nine states have a mask mandate, meaning that by “executive order” as dictated by their stupid tyrant governors, masks must be worn inside all public buildings. Here in New York, it was great to see the vicious punk Andrew Cuomo pack his bags and leave office, but his successor, Kathy Hochul, while less abrasive, is more deranged. She has the waxen face and dead eyes of a corpse. She wears a necklace that spells “Vaxxed,” and thinks she’s on a mission from God to save New Yorkers from Covid with vaccines – and has publicly said as much. She also thinks that schoolchildren wearing masks for a few more years is just fine, and like a good little parrot imitating CDC witch Rochelle Walensky, has declared racism a public health crisis. Obviously she belongs in a mental hospital, but for now remains in the governor’s mansion in Albany. What concerns me is not so much her, but the fact that there is so little resistance to her latest mask mandate, which went into effect on December 13th, and was supposed to last just over a month, but has now been extended to February 1st. I thought that by now, most people would be seething about being ordered to wear face diapers, but that’s not the case. The other day I saw a meme that perfectly illustrates the situation: a herd of sheep with masks covering their muzzles, and the words “Tell us what to do next.” Deep down I suspect a lot of people are scared and confused about what’s going on, but they remain passive, and the number of idiots walking alone outside with masks on is at an all-time high. People are cowed, downcast. They have no confidence in the authorities, but they obey. I’ve observed this before, in 1980, when I traveled around eastern Europe, and again in 2013 when I visited North Korea. It’s called communism.
Outside, or on the doors of most places where business is conducted, there’s a sign that reads “Masks required for entry regardless of vaccination status.” A few times in the past month I stopped at the library and post office and put a mask on before going in. I went to my bank to make a withdrawal without wearing a mask, and was told point blank by the teller, a fat, ugly man, obviously a resentful creature, to put a mask on. I guess his own mask and the plexiglass shield between us weren’t enough to protect him from my germs. I wasn’t about to argue with someone who had control of my money so I pulled it out of my pocket and put it on. Other than that, when I’ve gone food shopping or entered a few other stores, I haven’t worn a mask and no one has said anything. Maybe they think I’ll make a scene if they do. It’s rare that I see someone else flouting this “law,” but when I do I try to make common cause with them. Yesterday I saw an older guy in the local supermarket – one out of about forty – with a real face. “Where’s your mask?” I quipped, smiling.
“Halloween’s over,” he dryly replied, adding, “I never fell for that scam.” “Me neither,” I said.
This was in upstate New York, in Sullivan County, where I now live, but it’s the same on Long Island, where I recently spent a few days. My new place is in a quiet, rural area, on the edge of the Catskill Mountains, a two-hour drive from New York City, but you really have to go further west and north to escape the stench of Brooklyn and Manhattan. I hope that in the Adirondacks and the Finger Lakes region there’s more of that healthy “spirit of defiance” against the government that Thomas Jefferson cherished. I hope it’s widespread in the rest of the country as well, but I haven’t ventured far from home in the age of Covid. I did take a five-day meandering trip by car in August with my son on rural back roads in the northeastern quarter of Pennsylvania. It really is a different world from Long Island and, say, the southern third of New York state. There had been some “mask relief” in the summer of 2021 on Long Island after the “experts” at the CDC, whose guidelines are taken seriously by the sheep, suddenly declared that they’re not really essential, and from what I’d seen in big stores a little less than half were still wearing them. But in Pennsylvania it was more like one or two percent. The few people I saw wearing them in supermarkets and everywhere else really stood out. But there was a different kind of dumb in these parts: I couldn’t believe all the Trump 2020 signs I saw – not 2024 but 2020, and this was in 2021. In one family restaurant we were greeted by a life-sized cutout of Donald and Melania Trump when we walked in. And I’d say seventy percent of both men and women I saw were heavily tattooed on arms or legs, and quite often, both. Not a sign of good judgment in either case. There are a lot of good people in this region of Pennsylvania, which incidentally is nearly all-white, but there are things about my country that worry me, and not just the obvious ones. (January 21, 2022)