Being told what to do is comforting in its brainless way. Who wants to plan out a whole day? The weekly dragging from school to piano lessons wasn’t fun, but at least Mom had a plan. Dictated schedules take away uncertainty. Thank whoever’s barking orders at your ears for directness.
Unfortunately, the mystery of what’s next is solved by domineering fools who can’t operate Velcro ordering us in the name of bringing stability to this moment of particular cheeriness. We can’t engage in basic life activities all so a disease can keep spreading. But everything worked out well otherwise.
Remember government harassing you when people are only sickos and not largely sick. It’s not like there are any other activities to fill the brain’s yearning for the past. Politicians didn’t account for how creating emptiness would make ticked-off seclusion victims focus on that very same sparse reality. But I’m certain ordering medium-sized family gatherings banned is the only instance where warpers of spacetime neglected to think ahead.
Making things worse only enhances the fun. Depression caused by how many humans are getting infected despite being separated is truly the best of all scenarios. Solitary confinement to protect us from getting shanked by the virus works every time like it’s Colt 45, only for making life miserable instead of Billy Dee Williams enjoying a lady’s company. Your governor tells you what to do so you don’t feel unwell. There’s a virus?
Your kindly local jurisdiction tyrant needed to confiscate your right to interaction. The urge to tell you about the harm that’d be inflicted by deciding what you’ll do next is merely on meth right now compared to every other era. Dire philosophical and practical consequences of micromanaging hours surely can’t apply to everything else. Think of how many instances when an interdiction exacerbated what was a minor or non-issue to get your governor to hate you. Taking away thoughts of what’s next creates ample time to think about if doing so was needed. The conclusion shouldn’t surprise.
You can’t live for the good of your own life. Restrictions don’t seem to make any of the time we were born into living worthwhile. Clampdowns are only about the virus for now. Check back in 2037 for how safe you feel about spacing out at the supermarket line. Temporary measures will last forever like any good government program. If it’s tough to grasp eternity, picture getting through two weeks to stop the spread.
Some of your fellow constrained humans are sweet enough to think being told where to stand and how much of our faces to conceal will stop with the present illness. Taking what’s yours so you can exist is not just for pandemics. Distance from others will be expected during flu season. The toughest question humans will ever ponder is why anyone would ever want to open a restaurant.
Alleged authorities seize control of everyday activities in order to preserve them. It makes sense if you let them think for you. Sure, no midlevel executive has protected you from illness.
The lockdowns don’t seem to have locked down anything but people. But elected hall monitors absolutely know how to spend money more wisely than those impudent punks who think they earned it. As with Joe Biden announcing we’re in the midst of precisely 100 days more of mask-wearing tol end the plague, it’s about listening to science. Ignorant troglodytes wonder why it’s not, say, 88 or 126 days, and the answer is experiments are precise.
Uncooperative humans notice how attempting to board up every life aspect did nothing to prevent the demon fog from seeping in. You just didn’t tape enough plastic wrap to the seams. A disease whose sole purpose is to pass itself on is all your fault, naturally. You wandered within four feet of a fellow person, and the two of you spread sickness to the rest of our group.
Humans are supposed to comply with commands in recognition of how the wisest amongst us rise to offices as predetermined by benevolent fate. Our appointed leaders don’t account for any possible reactions, which is why we can’t let stupid markets be free.
Blaming people for not complying with enough enthusiasm will undoubtedly make them feel better about being kept in the hole for a year. Add claims it’d all be worse without being ordered around for true appreciation. Barack Obama’s specialty for explaining that life would suck even worse without his kindly miracles was preparation. And you say this century’s messiah didn’t look ahead.
Looking at any government’s reaction and thinking they kept people from croaking is a sign of illness. The public would’ve demanded to shut down any business with such horrid results, the difference being we can’t shop elsewhere.
Craving solutions is as understandable as it is pointless. People have the vague sense government possesses the authority to control our days. They’re right, but not in a particularly useful sense. The Constitution recognizes subversive humans’ right to live unbothered, which is why liberals hate it so much. Call the Electoral College racist to justify sliming a document based on being left alone.
Trusting your government to halt a disease is like believing your parents always have the answers. The difference is your aforementioned Mom will have good advice about not trusting scuzzy guys who claim to have all the answers. The government wants you to think of it as daddy, and their freakiness only grows more perverse from there.