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Fauci’s Farcical Facemask Follies
Full disclosure: I’m a mask skeptic. A mask denier. I am not, though, a mask refuser. If a business establishment puts up a sign that says “mask required” or, better, “please wear a mask,” I’ll do it without too much grousing ’cause that’s me, I’m a giver. I carry and, as required, wear a mask for the same reason I carry a leash when I walk my German Shepherd Dog. I don’t need the accouterment in either case, but if I can prevent anyone feeling ill at ease with my actions, I will. Did I mention yet that I’m a giver? Yeah? Okay, drivin’ on.
As we’ve navigated this pandemic, I’ve seen indicators and warnings (term of art, in my previous life) that we’re all getting played across the board by this pandemic reaction and mitigation efforts. What I am saying is not that there should be no mitigation or protection efforts. I’ve stated my preferences of the start point for protecting the vulnerable before, and early on in this grift.
I’m definitely not a medical professional, but I’ve received and maintained (mostly) some extensive medical training. In first aid ABCs (Airway, Breathing, Circulation…) I at one point was good to go up to “J” (insert J-tube into chest). Also, I’ve had some extensive CBRNE (chemical, biological, radiological, nuclear, explosive) training, including “live agent” training. I’ma tell you what, you want to pay attention during class on how to ensure you stay “clean,” take that class knowing that you’ll soon be in a chamber full of Sarin nerve agent, watching a poor, staked out caprine do the kickin’ chicken. It indeed focuses the mind.
Too, I’ve been married for at/about 137 years to The Lovely And Talented Mrs. Mongo, AKA Supernurse. So through osmosis on her journey as an Army CASH operating room nurse, Labor & Delivery nurse, open heart nurse, and clinical risk manager, I’ve become an inadvertent expert on a lot of random medical stuff, to include sterile procedure, infection control, and personal protective equipment.
Still, I’m not a pro, so salt my anecdotal observations and conclusions therefrom to taste.
Hurricane Isaias (ridiculous name, why you makin’ things harder than they need to be, NHC?) was barreling up the coast last weekend thru this week. We were supposed to be having some time off at the family beach house in Topsail Island, NC. Some back of the envelope crisis planning indicated that we’d better hunker down here in the Keys. However, our youngest daughter, call sign DEMON SEED, was flying in on Saturday with three girlfriends to have a lovely week at the beach. I’ve known these kids for years, love ’em all, even Demon Seed. So, I went ahead and flew out to make sure they were good to go during the storm. And to rent a car for them, since if you’re under 25, you may as well buy a Rolls as rent a car.
I transited Ft. Lauderdale Airport, to Charlotte, to Wilmington. As usual, I spent most of my time watching people, not my phone.
Whether you believe in masks, this whole “mask up” situation is useless.
More than half the people I saw had their mask pulled down below their nose, so they could, I dunno, breath.
You don’t have to wear a mask when eating or drinking, so if I’m just sitting in a seat, reading my kindle, my mask must be on. But if I’m eating a grinder from Jersey Mike’s I just take the mask off. No problem, no violation of “the rules.” Hello? Do y’all not know how transmission works? “Y’all” being the powers that be that wrote these ridiculous rules.
Many people pulled their masks down to their chin in order to be better understood on their phone–while they were walking through the terminal.
I saw a group of stewardesses meet in the middle of one of the terminals I was in. All were masked, but big hugs and air kisses and “I haven’t seen you in so long” s. Mm-hmm. Safety first, ladies.
Encouragingly, I didn’t see any babies or toddlers wearing masks. Hopefully, some parents have done the reading.
“Social distancing” is a joke. Despite whatever markers on the floor, it seemed to me that the Great American Public has decided that, in a crowded airport line for Burger King, Einstein Brothers Bagels, or Jersey Mike’s, the appropriate social distance is about 10 to 15 inches more than what most Americans consider personal space.
Once one sat down to wait at one’s gate, there didn’t seem to be a problem with just taking one’s mask off, eating/drinking, or not. Saw all kinds of Joe Biden “just let the mask flutter off one ear” practitioners.
As stated, I think this whole “wear a mask” phenomena is a scam, a hoax, a grift. Have you seen our precious mainstream media pushing out tech-specs for masks that will actually protect you or protect others from you? Me neither. The number of people walking around with pull up neck gators that just make them look like a circumcision gone wrong, but do nothing to protect those they come in contact with, was legion.
[At this point, I should note that we rode out the hurricane with no problems. At/about 2200 we started to experience hurricane storm effects. I had to sign off of the AMU and make sure the girls were good to go. Of course, they were. They had decided to play various and sundry drinking games thru the storm. I, of course, am way to mature and responsible to join in on that sort of sport drinking…not.]
Seeing what a sham all this mask-wearing and social distancing is had me on a slow boil. This is idiocy at a grand strategy level.
The American Airline’s warning pronouncements only served to stoke the fire. “Your nose and mouth must be covered except for approved activities. Failure to follow these instructions could lead to you not taking this flight, or future flights, on this airline.” Thanks, sphincter notches.
I got first-class, round-trip tickets for a great price. Of course, once I was told that “all food and drink services are suspended” I figured out why I got such a great price (full disclosure, TL&TMM got my tickets, I suck at that kind of thing and never really think about using mileage points to better my in-flight experience). Still, the bigger, wider seat was nice. Although, the fact that a drink cart would not be slamming into my shoulder due to the suspension of services mooted the win, a little.
[The announcements about the suspension of services included declarations at the gate that stated that if you wanted food or drink during the flight, buy it in the terminal and carry it onboard your own self. But, according to federal regulations, alcohol not procured on the plane is not allowed. Demon Seed and her crew were having none of that. They boarded their flight with a plethora of jigger bottles stashed about themselves, plus Gator-Aid, Smart Water, and flavored nonalcoholic seltzer waters as mixers. I guess they got a wee rowdy. Once the stewardess’ figured it out, as the lovely ladies partied on, the stewardess would do a drive-by and confiscate their drinks. At which point the girls would check to make sure the coast was clear, and mix more drinks. Their uproarious enjoyment of the flight led to a young lady of commensurate age making snide comments that our little bevy of princesses were sure to hear, which led, apparently, to an epic “Hey, Karen, bite my tooshie” rant from one of the girls. I mentioned I love these kids, right?]
I was at a low, rolling boil by the time that I took my final flight from Charlotte to Ft. Lauderdale. Plus, I was also vexed with the knowledge that my bird landed at 1700, and then I had to drive from Ft. Lauderdale to the Keys. In my car. The car that doesn’t have air conditioning. If you haven’t done a drive like that in that kind of traffic, you don’t even want to know.
So, maybe I was brooding a little bit. Maybe my brow was furrowed and I was kind of grinding my teeth a little bit at what I’d seen of our current societal silliness and in anticipation of the vehicular gauntlet I was going to have to run to get home. Then that guy made an appearance.
I was sitting in the last row in first class. Across the aisle from me as a well built black guy who had the foresight to bring a sub sandwich on board, and the patience to stand in the (non-social distanced) line to get it. In the seat next to me on the window was an American Airlines pilot. Even in his mask, he looked pretty nebbish. He was carefully going through different airplane specs on his tablet, and making manual notes. I want that guy as my pilot.
My low boil got a spike. The guy in the first row of economy, across the aisle from me was a classic 305 area poseur. Masked, a white V-necked T-shirt, skinny jeans, some type of popular, white leather sneakers. Dude had that hairdo where the sides were clipped close, but the top was overlong and mega-gelled.
In a simpering voice that, 10-15 years ago would’ve meant that he was a very queenie homosexual, but these days just means that he’s a male of a certain age from a certain area, he FaceTimed a confederate.
“Well, they say there is a policy, but it’s, like, totally unenforced. Look, there’s someone without a mask, and there, too. Can you believe it? Oh no, I’m taking pictures and I’m documenting all of this.”
Okay. On the one hand, I get it. It’s kind of what I’ve been complaining about. The airline has a (useless) policy, the exceptions to policy are kind of nebulous.
On the other hand, this simpering, self-impressed, self-important git who has never done anything productive in his sorry life is delivering pronouncements on people that just want to get from point A to point B, and the airline that wants to facilitate that in the face of zero good decision-making data.
This little twinkleberry pushed all of my buttons, as I listened to his monologue. I counted to ten. I did my self-control (and tactical) breathing. Four-count in, four-count hold, four-count exhale.
The black guy with his grinder across the aisle was tensing up. The masked pilot next to me was obviously aware of and taking umbrage at this douche-canoe’s comments.
Okay, breathe again, man.
My fingers drummed on the armrest. I ran through courses of action and thought about the most likely outcomes and most dangerous outcomes and how to mitigate both (I’m such an Army geek). Also, Mongo has learned through trial and tragic error to lance the Rage Boil early. The more the tempests of temper build, the more likely that my chosen course of action will be inappropriate and excessive. I know that. Breathe 2-3-4, hold 2-3-4, exhale 2-3-4. Ahh. Calm. Nope.
I turned in my seat, pointed the blade hand at the masked pretty boy, and said, from the diaphragm with the blade hand-chopping to emphasize each word: You. Are. A. Wussy.
Of course, the word I used wasn’t wussy, but you get the idea. Twinkerbell put his phone down and looked away, not a peep from him the whole rest of the trip. Black dude with a sub gave me head chuck, the one that means not only do I agree with you, but I’m with you if there’s any fallout. The nebbish-y pilot dude got really into the specs displayed on his tablet.
The rest of the trip went fine. Even the traffic on the way home was good.
We need to end this mask/lockdown insanity.
It’s useless.
Published in General
@LoisLane, strikes a chord. When my grandmother got dementia, she was put in a home about 15 minutes from my mom and dad. I visited multiple times, and the place was outstanding. Mom went every day to brush out her mom’s hair, have lunch with her, and talk. On days when my grandmother couldn’t recognize Mom, Mom would circulate and chat with people that didn’t have regular family visits, usually with input from the staff.
If my grandmother had died during this dystopian disease dysfunction, none of us would have been allowed to attend the funeral. But, every pol with gut to suck on showed up for John Lewis’ funeral, and career criminal George Floyd had a massively attended state funeral. It’s as maddening as it is disgusting.
Yes, yes, and yes. And more than anything else, this duality of how “the elite” speak and how they act is why (many) people don’t believe them when they talk about the essential nature of masks.
I’m the youngest in my family so I wasn’t around when elder-care was an issue for my mother’s parents. Her dad died relatively young from cancer, but her mother lived on in her own home several blocks from our house in small-town Ohio. When she became frail, my oldest brother would stay with her. She taught him Latin. And, as I understand it, she wasn’t a great cook, but when she buttered your toast in the morning, she was generous! Yum, butter. . .
However, after I came along, we’d have my Great Aunt Helen (my dad’s aunt) come stay with us in the winter months. She lived in a cottage on White Lake, Michigan, in the summer with only a hand pump in the kitchen sink for water and no central heat. When she stayed with us, she slept in my bed while I slept on the sofa. We did that for years.
My mother had no truck with putting old folks in homes and fought us mightily (even attempting to throw punches) when we eventually had to put her in one. It was terrible. But, she lived long enough that her own kids were geriatric or not in a position to take care of her (she couldn’t have tolerated our altitude even if I wasn’t already dealing with long-term care of a medically challenged kid).
But, I hate, hate, hate our nursing home system. We abort our babies and shelve our old people. No wonder our families are in such bad shape. I’m hoping God doesn’t keep me around too long. I don’t want to die old and alone and forgotten.
At my M-I-L’s funeral in early April (we had been prevented from seeing her at the NH for 4 weeks), it was my wife and me, my wife’s brother, the FH director (female), 2 guys from the funeral home, and the female minister. We had to lift the casket up onto the bier because the cemetery guys were prohibited from helping us, and we almost dropped it; one guy wrenched his back. Not a good memory.
I can’t “like” this, @oldphil. It makes me too sad.
Your brother got a good deal. I was so enriched by my grandparents. I am glad you had an aunt. I know just how hard it must have been with your mother. I mean… I really do.
Your last paragraph could make one weep. There is something unnatural about how we perpetuate the life of the old while not actually caring about how people live.
Some doctor posted somewhere on Ricochet that pneumonia could be an old man’s friend. To some, that probably sounds inhuman. To me, it sounds humane.
I do not want Covid to rip through old folks’ homes, but I definitely find incredible hypocrisy in how many people seem so concerned now for the old. The thing is, I don’t believe most of them.
Evening Boss, WC, Lois, Phil,
Boss started this discussion by noting how some folks have responded to this virus by becoming behavior informers. Of course, there have always been self-righteous judgmental folks ready to rat out others. The virus has given these folks a justification for this destructive behavior. Similarly, the virus has stripped the compassion out of our end of life healthcare. Who lets folks go through dying alone, this is not medicine, this is heartless. If institutions are worried about lawyers, have folks sign wavers, have them wear masks, disposable gowns, gloves. I don’t think folks who are at the end stage of the virus are the most likely to infect others, I think that one is most likely to infect others at the very earliest of the infection.
Part of the tragedy is a byproduct of modern life; we can hire folks to raise our children, and we can hire folks to take care of our parents (with govt subsidies). One hundred years ago we did not put our parents in a home, they stayed with one of the kids, of course 100 years ago we barely lived until our 60’s. Now most of us live into our late 70’s. Now many families have both parents working so no one is home to care for children or parents. Modern life has broken our natural relationships and the obligations that came with those relationships.
Keeping in mind Sowell’s “there are no solutions only trade offs”, 100 years ago when we died at a younger age, dementia was not so common. Now dementia is common and dementia and bed sores are joined. First demented patients get less attention, they never complain, they are often not aware of their bed sores, and they have even fewer visitors (which improve staff performance). My grandfather died of sepsis from his bed sores, in 1958. He was in a nursing home in Spencer IN, a smallish town, by the time he was brought to Indy to the Med Center it was too late. He was severely demented, non compos mentis, he was not responsive to his surroundings. I worked in the medical illustration dept of IU starting in 92, we did medical legal work among teaching work. In one of theirs cases we made a life size model documenting the bed sores which took another patient’s life. There were sores on both his heels, one of his elbow, one on his wrist, and a palm size sore on his sacrum. Even with modern beds which work to minimize isolated pressure points, bed sores are a common problem. This is especially true for patients who are demented. A benefit of working at a Med Center, one learns a lot of background info, if your parents or you are going into a nursing home, pick one whose staff is Evangelicals, they view your care as a calling.
Boss highlighted how our response to this virus has damaged our society in ways other that the disease. We have encouraged folks to fear a disease that will kill a fraction of the number of folks who die every year from heart disease! We have encouraged folks to fear each other. We have encouraged folks to be afraid of getting old folks sick. Public health is more than flu prevention, and mask wearing. Public health should not encourage us to be fearful humans. My parents lived in the world of polio, they lived as adults, we are being infantilized. My cousin had polio which crippled his arm. When you are my wife’s and my age ( 73 with comorbidities) many of your friends are geezers, including all the folks I play pickle ball with, us geezers don’t like folks to feel like they have to walk on eggshells when they see us.
@jimbeck: you make me want to give three huzzahs for geezers.
I totally get you, @jimbeck. I resent being treated like a child, and I am middle aged. I know from experience that the old are almost always treated like children. I think about the retirement center where I now give lectures via Zoom, and I just want to hug my oldsters who fought in WWII. (V-J Day has its 75th anniversary tomorrow!) Yet they are locked away with no agency in the end.
It makes me crazy.
So true. I watch mostly non American TV shows these days (Brit, Aussie, Canadian) but I’ve noticed that almost any character over 60 is portrayed with frizzie white hair, all bent over with a quavering voice. Good grief. I am 73, just recovering from a year long illness, and I think I’m pretty spry. And no one knows from my voice how old I am. I know exactly what medical treatments I am having and why, and I know what meds I am taking and what they are for. I have even had docs comment on it – kind of a back-handed compliment.
I really did enjoy The Golden Girls, and I was just a kid, really. I think people who make television shows should think about how popular that one was, though I guess no one is making anything right now when it comes to production.
In movies in the 1930s, it was not uncommon to see guys of all ages as soldiers, pirates, cowboys. It would have been more normal to do whatever it is you do until you drop.
Look at Errol Flynn’s mates in Captain Blood (1935) which included younger and gray-haired men in a mix. Boomers seemed to prefer more generational segregation in casting.
Which should have broken down as we boomers aged but instead we just pretend we are not aging. Think of Bruce Willis leading the the most elderly SEAL team ever in Tears of the Sun (2003) (still a really good flick) or numerous other age-inappropriate roles for boomer-age men.
Well, we either have portrayals of age not being a barrier or we don’t. The fact that the Boomers are a self-centered lot in general–sorry Boomers–doesn’t change the value in pop culture messaging that people don’t become useless simply because they’ve gotten a little long-in-the-tooth. They could, apparently, still be pirates. :)
My point is that the boomer generation (represent, my peeps!) regarded old age as something to be excluded, denied. As our movie stars aged, the role was more likely to be age-inappropriate—old guy acting as if he were still young—than a natural state of being.
Aging has been even more problematic for Boomer actresses. Goldie Hawn had that great line that there are only three stages in a female movie acting career: bimbo, district attorney and driving miss daisy.
Yes. I see. Boomers are at the root of yet another social problem. (I tease! I tease!!!! Sorta…) :)
Hmmn, seems to me we weren’t the first. Remember John Wayne in The Green Berets? He was 61 when playing that part. Now, mind you, the part was based on Larry Alan Thorne, who was a little older than average and died at age 46, but 61?
As I said, it didn’t start with us.
Respect for elders’ opinions and capabilities seems to have become a problem because of the huge acceleration of technology and information sharing. My mother was an “FDR Democrat” and I remember getting into a political argument with her 20 years ago, which she ended by saying, “it must be nice to know everything.”
Now, my mother had mad skilz as a wife and homemaker. She raised seven kids and kept a gracious home. She had survived the Great Depression and my dad going off to fight Hitler in WWII. She took care of everyone, from her own elderly relations (some by marriage) to her grandbabies and great-grandbabies. She led an amazing life.
But, she could barely find the on-button of the computer Trink and Dr. Trink gave her. And she hadn’t read Amity Shlaes’ The Forgotten Man to understand the terrible failure of Roosevelt’s depression-era policies, although she could have. She was a reader! And smart. But, there’s only so much someone can do with the life they’ve been given.
My kids already outpace me in navigating around tech. I suppose it won’t be long before they think they know better than I do about politics, although they’ll be wrong!! ;-)
Yes, let’s start with the generational stereotypes. It’s a fun game!
The last four Presidents have been Boomers. Three were born in the Summer of 1946.
Yep. The Silent Generation slipped the White House unless Joe wins. My poor Gen X somehow never gets to the plate….
There’s still time. The eldest Gen Xer is only 55.
(Kamala is at the tail end of the Baby Boom.)
Kids now are dumb. Not like when we were young.
One of the few things I strongly agree with Kamala Harris about.
Oh, I didn’t know we were only talking about Presidents.
I’m pretty sure this is the only thing on which I agree with her. :)
We aren’t. No limitations. We’re almost to page eight. Nobody’s watching. We can talk about anything.
Yes the portrayal of older people is abysmal.
Plus old age is not a number. I took care of elderly people for 20 years. I had one 96 year old client that walked at least 3/4 miles every single day. He wanted a companion more than a nurse, as his adult children and adult grandchildren were very busy with their lives. He often felt very lonely.
One of the arguments that he had and then lost with his adult children was how they were sick and tired of taking care of the corporation he had built up and handed over to them so he could retire at age 88. They ended up dropping it back in his lap – as it was too much for them. He proceeded on to hire an office manager; a year later that person was promoted to being COO. Then the kids squawked that a “stranger” was now in charge of “their business.”
An injury or a serious ailment can turn a 60 year old into a “frail elderly.” Some of it is the luck of the draw. Managing to not trip in the shower or not get side swiped by a drunk driver can be the deciding factor in how how many decades later a person becomes infirm.
Genetics helps avoiding the curse of being “over the hill.” Both my parents died shortly before their 91st birthdays, some 8 years apart. However with how crazy the world is these days, I certainly hope that I do not live that long.