Someone on FB commented, hopefully erroneously, that lockdown is a-happening. Isolate if you're vulnerable or, in my case, if you're close to someone that is. Seal yourself for an indeterminate period while our bumbling twat of a PM lies about what's happening because he and his lunatic advisers haven't a fucking clue.
I stepped out of my house to collect my washing. The line is outside, in the garden. If I want dry clothes that's what has to happen, so at some point the spell will be broken. Either I will breathe in the deadly air, or I will breathe it out into the world. There is no compromise. No Prince Charming.
A clear night sky surrounded the washing line. Transfixed by the mathematical beauty; ordered spotlights from a different kind of corona. I stood at the centre of a celestial equation so perfect I could fair ascend to the heavens in my slippers. Framed in eternity, a constellation with bad hair and a basket of still ever-so-slightly-damp attire.
From there I would watch the earth, loosed on its axis. Cavorting, as continents between oceans between continents dance and ripple;a whirling universe. Life teeming in multitudes shrinking and rising; ebbing and flowing. A suite of biology echoing across the planet like a drum dance or a hammered dulcimer.
I would turn to my celestial kin with but one question:
"How did we fuck this up so badly?"
Sunday, 22 March 2020
Weekender: This Isn't a Health Crisis
It seems to be that the fundamental issue in the response to this virus (not the virus and its effects per se) is one of capacity.
In other words, capitalism cannot deal with this. Cannot. Why; because capital chases profit which leads to cuts. Austerity. Countries like Italy are overwhelmed. Not because they are reporting large numbers of victims (though one is too many of course), but because their health service isn't equipped for it. Neither is ours. This is because of the capitalist ruling class. Cuts are made, privatisation creeps in. This latter serves only to exclude more from the oublic pool. Britain isn't planning to merely recquisition privte provision, but to compensate them. Unacceptable.
It didn't have to be like this. But capital demands cuts and competition to maintain profits. Now its demanding compensation - ultimately from us - to maintain the same. When the final analysis takes plaec this must not be forgotten: this is not a health crisis, it is a crisis of capitalism. Things must change.
Caveat: that isn't to say COVID19 isn't a health problem. It is. But the pandemic is a crisis of capitalism. However health issues can be dealt with. A vaccine will eventually appear but how the ruling class deals with this virus is the issue. We could have been prepared. We could have had leaders who knew what to do and weren't motivated by things other than public health. We didn't. We could have preserved upgraded and cared for the caring profession. They didn't. There must be culpability.
The weather is threatening to finally show a little spring from under the skirt. Normally this would be a celebration. But, perhaps hypocritically, I blanched and winced out on the trail, as families and their kids all had the same idea, cycling past. If this is social distancing, then god knows what coming together looks like!
If the hot weather doesn't finish off the virus (let's hope it does) then all the people out and about will finish off the rest of us. Kids off school end up playing in the park. That's as it should be, in a world free from viral worry. But kids are immortal. It's the rest of us that have the problem.
In strange futurity I will have become the old man in the neighbourhood. Shaking my withered fist like a husk of corn at the kids playing ball. As they grow up, their viral immunity built in, their offspring - those who survive the genetic mutations bred by this forced evolution, will come to know me as a terrifying urban legend. The perennial witch in the witch house; the house no one visits. Its garden overgrown and angry; battening down this brave new world.
A thing of folklore I will become half remembered urban legend whose mystery I wear like a wicker man. No one will correctly remember why until the climate alarm shouts; as it now often does. Then thy will run to the shelter of their Van Allen yurts. I will no longer care, as the sky blackens and the double glazing fails. For I have outlived the virus, if only physically. I survived the Broadband Wars. The Roboplague. The Oasis/Blur Schism. The Autotune Era. As capitalism finally dies I will survive this.
They will laugh but not understand. The alarms sound the all clear and atmosphere levels stabilise rendering sunlight safe again. This is their world now. Their memes will have to mend the sky. I'm off to watch Netflix; I have it preserved on a tablet that still requires a wifi connection. I am a relic from a time best forgotten, to be replaced by a future best ignored.
Till tomorrow, my children.
In other words, capitalism cannot deal with this. Cannot. Why; because capital chases profit which leads to cuts. Austerity. Countries like Italy are overwhelmed. Not because they are reporting large numbers of victims (though one is too many of course), but because their health service isn't equipped for it. Neither is ours. This is because of the capitalist ruling class. Cuts are made, privatisation creeps in. This latter serves only to exclude more from the oublic pool. Britain isn't planning to merely recquisition privte provision, but to compensate them. Unacceptable.
It didn't have to be like this. But capital demands cuts and competition to maintain profits. Now its demanding compensation - ultimately from us - to maintain the same. When the final analysis takes plaec this must not be forgotten: this is not a health crisis, it is a crisis of capitalism. Things must change.
Caveat: that isn't to say COVID19 isn't a health problem. It is. But the pandemic is a crisis of capitalism. However health issues can be dealt with. A vaccine will eventually appear but how the ruling class deals with this virus is the issue. We could have been prepared. We could have had leaders who knew what to do and weren't motivated by things other than public health. We didn't. We could have preserved upgraded and cared for the caring profession. They didn't. There must be culpability.
The weather is threatening to finally show a little spring from under the skirt. Normally this would be a celebration. But, perhaps hypocritically, I blanched and winced out on the trail, as families and their kids all had the same idea, cycling past. If this is social distancing, then god knows what coming together looks like!
If the hot weather doesn't finish off the virus (let's hope it does) then all the people out and about will finish off the rest of us. Kids off school end up playing in the park. That's as it should be, in a world free from viral worry. But kids are immortal. It's the rest of us that have the problem.
In strange futurity I will have become the old man in the neighbourhood. Shaking my withered fist like a husk of corn at the kids playing ball. As they grow up, their viral immunity built in, their offspring - those who survive the genetic mutations bred by this forced evolution, will come to know me as a terrifying urban legend. The perennial witch in the witch house; the house no one visits. Its garden overgrown and angry; battening down this brave new world.
A thing of folklore I will become half remembered urban legend whose mystery I wear like a wicker man. No one will correctly remember why until the climate alarm shouts; as it now often does. Then thy will run to the shelter of their Van Allen yurts. I will no longer care, as the sky blackens and the double glazing fails. For I have outlived the virus, if only physically. I survived the Broadband Wars. The Roboplague. The Oasis/Blur Schism. The Autotune Era. As capitalism finally dies I will survive this.
They will laugh but not understand. The alarms sound the all clear and atmosphere levels stabilise rendering sunlight safe again. This is their world now. Their memes will have to mend the sky. I'm off to watch Netflix; I have it preserved on a tablet that still requires a wifi connection. I am a relic from a time best forgotten, to be replaced by a future best ignored.
Till tomorrow, my children.
Saturday, 21 March 2020
Weekender: Too Far North
I've become slightly phobic about it. Sort of anti-Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. I have associated desperation with shopping and so every time I visit I'm anticipating the won't have what I need. Of course the fact they are social centres means they are vulnerable to the plague and yet they are vital. I still can't get the smell of disinfectant from visiting Tesco out of my nostrils. Sensory desperation.
I'm ok for the moment however. I have coconut oil - though only because the shop in town has it for cheap. That shop might as well be in Narnia now. Gosh, I can just about remember the wonderland of the high street...lined with magical phone case vendors and coffee shops. A panoply of flavours and colours punctuated by old favourites like WHSmiths or Boots. Reassuring! Keep the memory alive, Ghosty, like a torch in a cavern.
Surely even Corona cannot survive the invisible aroma field of make up and anti aging creams in Boots. A pharmacological bulwark; antiviral archers at the l'Oreal ramparts. Because we're worth it. Imagine the silent unseen war being fought in such a place. You'd never know until your eyes, greased up on tears, roll out of your head. Like a Hong Kong protester forcefed a state recipe of teargas and police violence.
My daily routine has changed weirdly. I've started going out for a morning walk really early (if you consider 7-7:20am really early) in lieu of exercise I'd normally do. It's still too bloody cold in the morning, but with only earlybird farmer, crazed dogwalker, or intense runner type persons around it seems a good time to stock up on sunshine and fresh air before a day indoors. I usually go out later in the day as well. We haven't yet met mandatory lock down.
Changes in routine are weird for me. Part of the reason I believe I'm neurodiverse. I'm sure change is weird for a lot of people. But routine is comforting and upsetting that, as is the case with the new unreliability of food procurement, is problematic. One can only hope others in my position are faring OK. This will be tough times for people with low mental health or particular neurodiverse needs and considerations. But of course the governments big bail out isn't for them. I listen to a lot of ambient music to get me through. Maybe I should build a playlist.
The clocks go back next week. Normally that would be a high point in my calendar. Mentally I mark the passing of the seasons and the movement of things like the Equinox. I give them an inner nod; a way to signpost surviving this far. You've made it through another winter, kid. Keep going. This to me is spirituality: the tools by which humans (that's us!) relate to our world. One we're increasingly at odds with. The language of signs and traditions to form a relationship that shoudl be nurtured, now more than ever. Who's with me?
There is an ebb and flow to life: the Chinese called it the Tao. To everything a time; things wax, then then wane. Always, at the peak of either, is the seed of the other. Nothing is permanent except impermanence. A time for sowing and a time for reaping. That is how we should live our lives. But somewhere along the line we got the bright idea to wander too far north. Then we had to invent central heating and mortgages. Now look at us; living in boxes that we now depend on to keep us safe from an unfortunate wrinkle in the biological world. An ecological refutation of our hubris.
Too far north I tell ya!
I'm ok for the moment however. I have coconut oil - though only because the shop in town has it for cheap. That shop might as well be in Narnia now. Gosh, I can just about remember the wonderland of the high street...lined with magical phone case vendors and coffee shops. A panoply of flavours and colours punctuated by old favourites like WHSmiths or Boots. Reassuring! Keep the memory alive, Ghosty, like a torch in a cavern.
Surely even Corona cannot survive the invisible aroma field of make up and anti aging creams in Boots. A pharmacological bulwark; antiviral archers at the l'Oreal ramparts. Because we're worth it. Imagine the silent unseen war being fought in such a place. You'd never know until your eyes, greased up on tears, roll out of your head. Like a Hong Kong protester forcefed a state recipe of teargas and police violence.
My daily routine has changed weirdly. I've started going out for a morning walk really early (if you consider 7-7:20am really early) in lieu of exercise I'd normally do. It's still too bloody cold in the morning, but with only earlybird farmer, crazed dogwalker, or intense runner type persons around it seems a good time to stock up on sunshine and fresh air before a day indoors. I usually go out later in the day as well. We haven't yet met mandatory lock down.
Changes in routine are weird for me. Part of the reason I believe I'm neurodiverse. I'm sure change is weird for a lot of people. But routine is comforting and upsetting that, as is the case with the new unreliability of food procurement, is problematic. One can only hope others in my position are faring OK. This will be tough times for people with low mental health or particular neurodiverse needs and considerations. But of course the governments big bail out isn't for them. I listen to a lot of ambient music to get me through. Maybe I should build a playlist.
The clocks go back next week. Normally that would be a high point in my calendar. Mentally I mark the passing of the seasons and the movement of things like the Equinox. I give them an inner nod; a way to signpost surviving this far. You've made it through another winter, kid. Keep going. This to me is spirituality: the tools by which humans (that's us!) relate to our world. One we're increasingly at odds with. The language of signs and traditions to form a relationship that shoudl be nurtured, now more than ever. Who's with me?
There is an ebb and flow to life: the Chinese called it the Tao. To everything a time; things wax, then then wane. Always, at the peak of either, is the seed of the other. Nothing is permanent except impermanence. A time for sowing and a time for reaping. That is how we should live our lives. But somewhere along the line we got the bright idea to wander too far north. Then we had to invent central heating and mortgages. Now look at us; living in boxes that we now depend on to keep us safe from an unfortunate wrinkle in the biological world. An ecological refutation of our hubris.
Too far north I tell ya!
Friday, 20 March 2020
Weekender: Foraging in the Time of Gift Cards
And so week one of this haphazardly hosted hazard festival draws to a close. As the days grow longer, the sun sets on a greater situation than the sunrise faced. This is now the pace of our lives, I guess. Hinter gatherers foraging a mid a so-called civilisation. Mammoth hunters with credit cards; foragers with iPhones dodging the thorny proteins in a field of sky and asphalt. A primal life set to last...weeks? Probably months, realistically.
I remember when the word month wasn't a tiny stepping stone across a yawning chasm. We're in the viral waiting room; we hope our number isn't up before the vaccine calls our name. Better get used to reading those gossip magazines they keep on the table.
The food situation seems (and hopefully isn't) as fraught as it was a week ago. The local coop is doing its best, commendably. They seem to have stock, but they remain busy - which, given the nature of the crisis, seems inherently problematic.
I have been checking out online suppliers, usually the sort of place that I'd dismiss because it's too expensive. Unfortunately they too are oversubscribed. Everyone wants their shopping it seems all the time simultaneously. This isn't rational, but then what is?
As I said previously: the situation will have to stabilise because there isn't an alternative.
By the way does anyone else find it really weird how they keep saying kids are OK, but they are just carriers. Either that's meant to reassure people their kids aren't about to die, or we're living in a seventies sci fi cult tv plot. Logan's running!
I've largely shutdown Twitter. It's too much overload. It feels like being an antenna during a lightning storm. Sometimes ignorance really is bliss, and lord knows I need that now. Just bathe me in it, like a guru when the cheque clears. Facebook is more manageable (even though it's shit in it's own way :D). I can't handle the news. I end up checking the numbers. Always the numbers..."rising the tide, imperial". Metric my life away. Numbers. Always the numbers - always constant it's that they go up before they go down. A measurement of the inevitable.
I tried setting up Netflix today. It's come to that! I shall steal the virus and turn it into a permanent TV signal static. Couldn't manage it though: 57 channels any my debit card's wrong. It wasn't viable for some reason. I tried ringing the bank. Unsurprisingly the call centres are rammed. People need to live and I want Netflix. Ridiculous, I could weep at how trivial it is. But all it takes are the little things; like tiny shards of a dropped plate. You see yourself in the accident and it reminds you of your own fragility.
It's the weekend. Will we notice? I shall continue to write down my thoughts. I hope for those reading they offer as much as I get from writing it. That's all there is now. However I would like to invite comments: feedback from anyone interested in setting up a more interactive approach. I don't know what, or how, but that idea of a radio channel I wrote about days ago seems like the sort of thing that could help. A little sense of community. Or a bit of fun. Maybe you have some thoughts. Let me know.
Finally, a comrade linked me this. An interesting, damning, and obvious, read. It's getting heavy. Let us take care of each other, and ourselves. Until tomorrow, gentle reader
I remember when the word month wasn't a tiny stepping stone across a yawning chasm. We're in the viral waiting room; we hope our number isn't up before the vaccine calls our name. Better get used to reading those gossip magazines they keep on the table.
The food situation seems (and hopefully isn't) as fraught as it was a week ago. The local coop is doing its best, commendably. They seem to have stock, but they remain busy - which, given the nature of the crisis, seems inherently problematic.
I have been checking out online suppliers, usually the sort of place that I'd dismiss because it's too expensive. Unfortunately they too are oversubscribed. Everyone wants their shopping it seems all the time simultaneously. This isn't rational, but then what is?
As I said previously: the situation will have to stabilise because there isn't an alternative.
By the way does anyone else find it really weird how they keep saying kids are OK, but they are just carriers. Either that's meant to reassure people their kids aren't about to die, or we're living in a seventies sci fi cult tv plot. Logan's running!
I've largely shutdown Twitter. It's too much overload. It feels like being an antenna during a lightning storm. Sometimes ignorance really is bliss, and lord knows I need that now. Just bathe me in it, like a guru when the cheque clears. Facebook is more manageable (even though it's shit in it's own way :D). I can't handle the news. I end up checking the numbers. Always the numbers..."rising the tide, imperial". Metric my life away. Numbers. Always the numbers - always constant it's that they go up before they go down. A measurement of the inevitable.
I tried setting up Netflix today. It's come to that! I shall steal the virus and turn it into a permanent TV signal static. Couldn't manage it though: 57 channels any my debit card's wrong. It wasn't viable for some reason. I tried ringing the bank. Unsurprisingly the call centres are rammed. People need to live and I want Netflix. Ridiculous, I could weep at how trivial it is. But all it takes are the little things; like tiny shards of a dropped plate. You see yourself in the accident and it reminds you of your own fragility.
It's the weekend. Will we notice? I shall continue to write down my thoughts. I hope for those reading they offer as much as I get from writing it. That's all there is now. However I would like to invite comments: feedback from anyone interested in setting up a more interactive approach. I don't know what, or how, but that idea of a radio channel I wrote about days ago seems like the sort of thing that could help. A little sense of community. Or a bit of fun. Maybe you have some thoughts. Let me know.
Finally, a comrade linked me this. An interesting, damning, and obvious, read. It's getting heavy. Let us take care of each other, and ourselves. Until tomorrow, gentle reader
Thursday, 19 March 2020
Part of your 5 a Day...A Well Financed Apocalypse
So says Rishi Sunak, our shiny new Keeper of the Coin, elected by plutocrats who aren't us. The neoliberal answer to this existential crisis of capitalism (and life) is to lend money at "attractive" rates.
Isn't this blackmail? You need the money, your staff need the money, your society needs the money...so sign on the dotted line. They'll hold us hostage to the last breath - or should that be last gasp.
Even Trump is considering the equivalent of a Universal Basic Income. He's calling it helicopter money, though not quite the Richard Branson definition (money to bu helicopters to fly over my private island while my staff go without pay). Of course it would be naive to believe the upcoming election isn't a factor. As if Trump, anymore than Sunak and the Tories, cares about the working class. He cares about votes.
And golf.
Every day the numbers increase. It just seems inevitable now. A few days ago there were 2 cases. Now it's 4. In a few days 6? A week? It's like when you were a kid, at the beach, and you saw the tide come in, slowly realising it wasn't going to stop and you could be in trouble if you didn't get out the way. Nature has a way of asserting herself. We better get out the way.
But I don't see that happening. What will happen when it gets here? Will I even notice? Or just the fear. They are shutting the schools tomorrow, yet the local pub remains open. I'd be more concerned about the casual drink driving that takes place there, but allowing people to congregate in this way doesn't seem well informed. I can understand why the pub wants to stay open: it's life or death. Problem is we don't want it to be life or death!
And so these are the shape of our days: how the immediate future will unfold. The undressing of our lives. I went to the chemists earlier (stress + piles = TMI!). Only two people are allowed inside simultaneously. I got the sense they were busy; lots of people want their prescriptions. They're shutting an extra hour for lunch. I wondered if that was to give the place a clean but I don't know.
All these little changes are conspicuous yet small. Staff wearing blue gloves - probably a good idea at the best of times. If only these were the best of times.
On the way home I noticed the trees just starting to bud. It's still cold though; as if nature was still oppressive. What else could it be right now? What will it be like when the sun appears? Come May/late April, when that time finally comes, I can feel the expansive part of myself relax. Like a creature stirring from hiberation. Will that happen this year?
Isn't this blackmail? You need the money, your staff need the money, your society needs the money...so sign on the dotted line. They'll hold us hostage to the last breath - or should that be last gasp.
Even Trump is considering the equivalent of a Universal Basic Income. He's calling it helicopter money, though not quite the Richard Branson definition (money to bu helicopters to fly over my private island while my staff go without pay). Of course it would be naive to believe the upcoming election isn't a factor. As if Trump, anymore than Sunak and the Tories, cares about the working class. He cares about votes.
And golf.
Every day the numbers increase. It just seems inevitable now. A few days ago there were 2 cases. Now it's 4. In a few days 6? A week? It's like when you were a kid, at the beach, and you saw the tide come in, slowly realising it wasn't going to stop and you could be in trouble if you didn't get out the way. Nature has a way of asserting herself. We better get out the way.
But I don't see that happening. What will happen when it gets here? Will I even notice? Or just the fear. They are shutting the schools tomorrow, yet the local pub remains open. I'd be more concerned about the casual drink driving that takes place there, but allowing people to congregate in this way doesn't seem well informed. I can understand why the pub wants to stay open: it's life or death. Problem is we don't want it to be life or death!
And so these are the shape of our days: how the immediate future will unfold. The undressing of our lives. I went to the chemists earlier (stress + piles = TMI!). Only two people are allowed inside simultaneously. I got the sense they were busy; lots of people want their prescriptions. They're shutting an extra hour for lunch. I wondered if that was to give the place a clean but I don't know.
All these little changes are conspicuous yet small. Staff wearing blue gloves - probably a good idea at the best of times. If only these were the best of times.
On the way home I noticed the trees just starting to bud. It's still cold though; as if nature was still oppressive. What else could it be right now? What will it be like when the sun appears? Come May/late April, when that time finally comes, I can feel the expansive part of myself relax. Like a creature stirring from hiberation. Will that happen this year?
Wednesday, 18 March 2020
Parts Per Million...Market Garden Armageddon
Welcome to the next day at the end of your life. Not literally I hope, but certainly - dare I say necessarily - life as we know it. Unfortunately, and thanks to the elites who speak only the language of capital accumulation, that change could be very painful. It's a Middle Class Apocalypse, a very proper market garden armageddon. Look after the avocado supply while soap and eggs (the new breakfast) fly off the shelves like terrified pigeons.
If this is revolution let it be so. It's not as if we can stop this now. The virus is here and so are people. Yummy squishy stupid lovely people (just keep your distance folks). All the better to incubate in. A virus bred in the test tubes of fast tracked capitalism. Poured into poverty and ghettos. Bred not by comic book supervillains or fiends but ordinary people who want to get by. A very avoidable misery, a very cyclical misery that can only end with the coughing death of this mode of production. It is just a sad, sick, tragedy that those who will pay the price are the least among us. Not the privileged politicians backslapping their own over what their mouthpieces call "a gamble".
A gamble. Like a spread bet, or a speculation on the price of food for a millionaire dining on the impossible. Our lives, a plague, a gamble. I wager 400 quatloos on a stimulus oriented toward big business and not the so-called 'big society'. When we all arise from our shelters there must be an accounting. A very big accounting.
Paul Mason puts it succinctly here.
Further discussion, from an in depth Marxist perspective here:
Now I hear supermarkets have instigated purchase limits: two tins of mackerel (or whatever) per customer. You might think I agree. Actually, no. I shop once a week (likely to change) as such I need to buy more than this limit. I eat mackerel, for example; one tin a day. That means I need 7 tins a week. So now how will that work? Could I eat something else? Depends what's available and whether it would also impinge on the limits likewise.
This shouldn't be a problem. The supply is there, but, because our supply chains clearly can't cope with pandemics, and because the people have lost their minds, it is. I have some sympathy with the latter; people aren't trained to cope in this situation. Reason must prevail however, proscribing to people what they can eat, which effectively is what is happening here - rationing, isn't the answer. It doesn't need to be the answer. We have got to work together and the government has to maintain supply. I do not wish to appear unreasonable but I I still need enough, we all do.
In fact I worry about rationing. If they, god forbid (though he can't rule out), bring out ration books then we will be told what to eat and how much. If you eat a particular diet (if you're a vegan for example) you are going to struggle. Maybe people can exchange their purchases, but I don't trust the government on nutrition as on anything. They've been pushing sugar and carbs for years; a diet that made me sick for two decades without a clue. I know better now and I'd like to keep it that way. I don't expect fried angel feathers and the golden caviar of paradise. I do expect healthy real food. In my case that's meat, a little dairy, eggs (which are currently rarer than actual Faberge eggs), and some veg. I'll wipe my arse with my hand if I have to.
What an epitaph. See you tomorrow.
If this is revolution let it be so. It's not as if we can stop this now. The virus is here and so are people. Yummy squishy stupid lovely people (just keep your distance folks). All the better to incubate in. A virus bred in the test tubes of fast tracked capitalism. Poured into poverty and ghettos. Bred not by comic book supervillains or fiends but ordinary people who want to get by. A very avoidable misery, a very cyclical misery that can only end with the coughing death of this mode of production. It is just a sad, sick, tragedy that those who will pay the price are the least among us. Not the privileged politicians backslapping their own over what their mouthpieces call "a gamble".
A gamble. Like a spread bet, or a speculation on the price of food for a millionaire dining on the impossible. Our lives, a plague, a gamble. I wager 400 quatloos on a stimulus oriented toward big business and not the so-called 'big society'. When we all arise from our shelters there must be an accounting. A very big accounting.
Paul Mason puts it succinctly here.
Further discussion, from an in depth Marxist perspective here:
Now I hear supermarkets have instigated purchase limits: two tins of mackerel (or whatever) per customer. You might think I agree. Actually, no. I shop once a week (likely to change) as such I need to buy more than this limit. I eat mackerel, for example; one tin a day. That means I need 7 tins a week. So now how will that work? Could I eat something else? Depends what's available and whether it would also impinge on the limits likewise.
This shouldn't be a problem. The supply is there, but, because our supply chains clearly can't cope with pandemics, and because the people have lost their minds, it is. I have some sympathy with the latter; people aren't trained to cope in this situation. Reason must prevail however, proscribing to people what they can eat, which effectively is what is happening here - rationing, isn't the answer. It doesn't need to be the answer. We have got to work together and the government has to maintain supply. I do not wish to appear unreasonable but I I still need enough, we all do.
In fact I worry about rationing. If they, god forbid (though he can't rule out), bring out ration books then we will be told what to eat and how much. If you eat a particular diet (if you're a vegan for example) you are going to struggle. Maybe people can exchange their purchases, but I don't trust the government on nutrition as on anything. They've been pushing sugar and carbs for years; a diet that made me sick for two decades without a clue. I know better now and I'd like to keep it that way. I don't expect fried angel feathers and the golden caviar of paradise. I do expect healthy real food. In my case that's meat, a little dairy, eggs (which are currently rarer than actual Faberge eggs), and some veg. I'll wipe my arse with my hand if I have to.
What an epitaph. See you tomorrow.
Tuesday, 17 March 2020
Part Who's Even Counting Anymore? Shopper's Delight
Cuddly toy, deadly virus, stockpiled toiletries, terror in aisle 9, creme eggs...
I can't imagine any worse a petri dish for the poor than your local Amazon gulag. The work is exhausting which means weakened immune system. All the termites in that retail mound, enclosed space, probably crap ventilation. I hope I'm wrong about that. There are enough problems with Amazon already.
Anyway
I just went shopping, or tried to. It's a reflex, like breathing. A social spasm as we hiccough money into the system for it to feed us.Moloch grants thee one more day! I was planning to go on Friday. I do it every week. I can't stock up - besides what's the point? Panic buying is counter productive: none of us know how long this will last so all we're doing is making the situation worse for ourselves and everyone around us. Moreover, it's a vicious circle: you spy limited supply and are compelled to stock up likewise. An understandable but irrational reaction. We all have to get through this, none of us know how long it will last, you don't need anymore of any one thing than normal, maybe soap, so what is the point?
No one will listen. You can't argue rationality against emotion. The heart will win over the head every time.
The supply chains are already struggling, so the shopkeep tells me. Either we start being creative (sausage, egg, and tampon - the traditional British breakfast!) or we start starving.
Or we get a competent leader. I think we'll be eating fried tampon (the stringy bit is where the...ugh, I've gone too far) before that human wiff waff weetabix goes gently into that good night.
On the other hand I suspect Amazon are making out like bandits (when are they ever not?) as the country settles into its comfy couch groove and orders a metric ton of stupid shit through Prime. Sometimes though the stupid shit is what we need to get us through. Although it'll just end up in landfill and end up waiting for us in the climate apocalypse looming post virus.
Hopefully this situation will stabilise. It has to. In lieu of the boffins cooking up a post haste vaccine, which isn't going to happen for a variety of reasons, or a miracle, people will have to start acting responibly. There is no reason for people to panic buy, there is no reason to buy more than you need. Online deliveries are one thing, and a separate issue. But for those of us who can get to shops as we do normally: please do as we do normally!
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