Tuesday 5 January 2021

The Long Road 1: March Redux (+1:31)

So here we are and here we go again. The fruits of ten months experience distilled into one festive fuck up. They were warned and we never listened. We know what they're like. We know they don't listen and don't care. We also know that they are staggeringly stupid and, now, criminally incompetent. None of this will improve with the Tories in charge; Gove cheerfully telling us all how it might (might?) last till March. No problem for him; he's an incredibly wealthy Tory. He'll have plenty to keep him busy and all the luxury within which to do it. Nor for him the panic buying, the destitution, the boredom, the desperation. We aren't in it all together, and we never where. 

But this time, is it a step too far. Certainly they have placed us in a position where this lockdown is necesary. Like every time before they've done it too late. Now there are going to be thousands of deaths before this wave recedes. That cannot be avoided; the infections have already happened. Almost 60,000 a day for the past couple of weeks at least. Percentages are not our friend. That's nearly a million people infected. Even with a seemingly modest survival rate it amounts ot thousands more dead, condemned by Boris on the eve of vaccine. He could have locked down over December as well, suppressed Christmas. He didn't. We're dying. We can't avoid that. 

What consequence will he face? Sooner or later he risks even the support of the media. There's always a step that a leader can take that puts them beyond the pale. But if he fucks up the vaccine, if this gts rolled out slowly, which it will, they will step in. I'm sure of it. He's on borrowed time, spending our goodwill as a maxed out emotional credit card. There will be a reckoning. There has to be.

For now, and for the detriment of providing the kind of razor sharp sarcasm this ridiculous blog has become accustomed to, I have decided to take a break from the media. It's too much. Of course it will be impossible to avoid completely since I'm on Twitter. I like Twitter, I like the format. But it's a hellscape to be sure.

Unlike town, which, aided by the invisible cold breeze (not unlike the invisible cold breeze of death), was a ghost town. Almost everywhere shut up, or shutting up. A bit like the dregs of time on Christmas Eve (the normal kind, not the deadly kind), when the shopping hours are up and the storefronts are closing. At this point most people are shopped out and heading home. All that's left are the lastr strains of the Salvation Army brass band and the desperate homeless, ignored as ever. They are still out there, by the way. They'll become like the blast shadows at Hiroshima, haunting us after this nightmare is over. The Tories don't care though; leave them to freeze or disease.

Ironically the shopping conditions are more pleasant as a result. Consequently I'll be avoiding lockdown (or I won't, if the cops are reading) to do my shopping in a less turbulent Tesco on a welcomingly empty bus. Just me and the bus driver. Unfortunately for him he has no choice.

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