GOOD LUCK

About five hours after getting off work I stepped out for a last pipe of the day. My feet and legs had not fully recovered yet, and it was ill-advised to do so. I walked for about a block and a half before returning home and sitting on the front steps to finish my smoke.
From a distance, Polk Street was audible. Raucous.

Either they were celebrating the misfortunes of forty five, OR the CDC's new guidelines.

Which, in a nutshell, are: You're on your own, bitches, good friggin' luck.

Understandable, given that despite the pandemic still being very much with us (over 8,000 dead in the last fortnight), people will not mask up, and those that refused to get jabbed are even more stubborn about that now. There are mass events. Parties. Social get-togethers. Full bars and restaurants. Sporting events, music fests, and stupid behaviour.

8,000+ dead last fortnight. Over five hundred per day.

You're on your own, bitches.

Good friggin' luck.

Truth be told, I'm quite okay with that. Too many Christians anyway, we can lose a few. It's mostly antivaxxers ("Christians") snuffing it, as well as people doing their own research.
By any reasonable standard it's no major loss.

Three dozen states have more Covid deaths per thousand residents than California, and four states have TWICE the Covid deaths: Mississippi, Arizona, Oklahoma, and Alabama.

My piles bleed for those poor bastards in those red states. Truly.

My "thoughts" and "prayers" go out to them.

Milk crates and Tide Pods.



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