Black-footed Ferret Reports:
Dispatch 2 from DumbFuck Nation, United States of Absurdia
I drove on… my thinking was in a real bad way. I didn’t have a plan. How crazy I was thinking is the example I thought Texas was going to be a safe haven. They have guns, maybe some will protect me. It also became apparent that I was to subsist on McDonalds or truck stop Subway sandwiches. It is eerie to see the economic suicide this country is under first hand. Then I thought AAA wouldn’t even come if I called. The loneliness was thick, in my van, in vacant Northern Arizona.
The car radio was Corona Virus, all day, all the time, from every direction. Doom and gloom. Lies, lies, lies, can’t anyone even discern the truth? NPR is absolutely the most lying-est shit bag bunch. All propaganda, all the time, with female after female reporter testifying about the emotional wreckage brought on by the Virus. First story – a father can’t be with the expectant mother during delivery. Second story – No matter, it’s all under the “We’ll never know” mystery variety. Third story – the tiger at the Bronx zoo has the Corona. Oh! My heart just bleeds for that tiger. Death totals always rise as the segments continues, 7,000 then 8,000 then 13,000. They are reporters with no respect for the dead. No attempt to report 7,342 or 8,567 or 12,733, just flat numbers always rising. I rode in silence.
My quest didn’t improve entering New Mexico with, yet again, another female Governor using the scary voice to enforce a ‘lock-down’, (her words), for public safety. They also had the unique Big Brother ability to send a screeching warning signal through your car radio, your CB, and your cell phone simultaneously every 30 minutes or so, with a text warning, also. I got into Gallup and slept for a while at a Love’s Truck Stop. There is nothing like a Love’s washroom smell at 8AM, an open cattle car on a hot August day wouldn’t do it justice, but bless them, they keep the place clean and I appreciate it. They got a lot of my business the next few days.
A little bit of rest and I came up with a destination. I have an old friend, Mac, wintering in New Orleans. I gave him a call and like a true friend he said, “I’d love to see you. Come on down.” Mac didn’t hesitate a second or question me on my ‘social distancing policy’. Out of blue I received a call from an old work mate living in his cabin in Northern Wisconsin and he invited me to stay with him. So, these two human beings, non-DFians, heartened my day, (as it turned out, one. I’ll explain later.) I was on my way to New Orleans, but I still wanted to wander for few days, a $1.30/gal can take you places. I have never been to Taos… maybe I’ll bump into Miles Mathis!
Dispatch 3 of the Black-footed ferret Reports in DumbFuck Nation coming soon…
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http://escapedwageslave.blogspot.com/2020/08/bff-reports-08-sick-and-tired.html
http://escapedwageslave.blogspot.com/2020/08/bff-reports-007-wall.html
http://escapedwageslave.blogspot.com/2020/08/bff-reports-006-earnest-tubb-lives_13.html
http://escapedwageslave.blogspot.com/2020/08/bff-reports-005-cure.html
http://escapedwageslave.blogspot.com/2020/04/bff-reports-004-hand-shake.html
http://escapedwageslave.blogspot.com/2020/04/bff-reports-003-rest-stop.html
http://escapedwageslave.blogspot.com/2020/04/bff-reports-002-silence.html
http://escapedwageslave.blogspot.com/2020/04/bff-report-001.html
http://escapedwageslave.blogspot.com/2020/04/black-footed-ferret.html
http://escapedwageslave.blogspot.com/2020/04/head-for-hills.html
http://escapedwageslave.blogspot.com/2020/04/announcement.html
America's Huddled Masses Yearn to Breathe Free
Emma Lazarus could not imagine, when writing the 1883 sonnet inscribed on the Statute of Liberty, that the words of lines 10 and 11 -- “Give me your tired, your poor,/ Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free” -- would bear such relevance to the situation now being endured by American citizens under government lockdown thanks to a global pandemic midwifed by scientists in a Chinese viral research lab in Wuhan.
... Americans are tired of an oppressive government that, for our own good, they tell us, locks us in our homes based on computer models that have never been right from day one and health guidelines that keep changing so much they might as well be written on an Etch-a-Sketch. They want to “flatten the curve” by crushing our hopes and dreams. They seek treatments and a cure for a virus, ignoring the health-care costs of crushed lives and dreams, the human costs of lost jobs and careers, of nest eggs broken on the ground, of people who used to provide for their families fighting in stores over rolls of toilet paper. We are being guided by the best infectious disease experts in the world, we are told, experts so smart they didn’t anticipate or consider the lives lost from depression, suicide, drug and alcohol addiction, and despair in a land where abortion is considered an essential procedure but heart stints and CT scans not so much.
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