The Masqued Ball(sh*t)

When is a mask not a mask? When it’s a means of oppression. At least, that’s what some would have you think.

If you were four years old and you kept running into the road, and your mum said, stop dearie, that’s dangerous, you could be run over, or cause an accident where others could get hurt, yet you persisted in running into the road, shouting, I won’t do what you tell me, oppressor, then every onlooker would describe you as a little sh*t. They’d call your mother an epic fail. Good for you, making your mum look bad.

That is how the anti-mask bridage are sounding to me right now.

Personally, mask, no mask, I don’t give a monkeys. If there’s a chance it makes others safer, or myself, then cool. There are mask fashions emerging for those such inclined to partake. There are people like me that feel a bit of dental work wouldn’t hurt, yet as that would cost about a million quid then perhaps a classy mask is the answer I’ve been looking for.

My point is, are you really so unoppressed that the thought of wearing a mask makes you feel so oppressed? Where’s your sense of public duty? What if they do stop the spread? Then you’re one selfish bugger.

When I go out, having completely forgotten to perhaps wear a mask, because no one has said I should, I see people wearing them, and feel guilty, like perhaps I should. If that little old lady is scared enough to be wearing hers, then seeing others wearing them too will make her feel safe, and happier. Isn’t that a good enough reason in itself?

I saw someone comment on Twitter earlier that next they’ll be making us wear mandatory masks in the winter because of flu. Sorry, but during winter, we’ve all got scarves over our faces because it’s freezing. So, the difference is what? Do your woollies oppress you?

The trouble is, as humans, we are actually a bit rubbish at taking responsibility for ourselves and others unless we’re of the paranoid or the at-risk persuasion, so we forget. Well, I do anyway. That’s not to say I don’t care about others. But with all these people refusing to do it voluntarily, we’re faced with a situation now where they’re being made compulsory. The kid that keeps running around in the road, eventually finds itself tied to its pushchair.

Covid is here though. Or is it? We’ll see very shortly. Wales has just opened up to England and we went from ghost country to holiday chaos over the last weekend. The caravans are back on the roads and the sites are all open. Of course, it’s raining, so all those businesses that can only open with outside custom find themselves with wet chairs. The beaches will be full of kagools and token ice-creams.

If Covid really is the big bad wolf then that will be excruciatingly evident in about two or three weeks from now, when our currently low numbers of Covid cases shoot up, or don’t. Meanwhile, what’s the beef with wearing Schrodinger’s mask, the mask that they’re forcing you to wear whilst simultaneously using facial recognition software to track your every move?

The attitude is making me feel vaguely uneasy. Is our nation really so blind to any real oppression that they feel this is the worst thing that can possibly happen to them? You’d think they were at gunpoint. They scream for their liberty, tragically lost due the powers that be covering their faces, not realising that there is no real liberty. We are, actually, at metaphorical gunpoint, but that’s not the bit they care about. Every aspect of our tiny lives is controlled and contrived and we’re all slaves to a system that’s killing us.

But don’t worry about all that fighting a broken system stuff. Don’t worry about finding the root cause of all this mayhem. That’s a stupid fight.

You best go fight those pesky masks.

Advertisement

Published by Tess Delaney

I mostly only come out at night... mostly....

One thought on “The Masqued Ball(sh*t)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: