I dreamed the other night that I was standing behind a woman at the Kroger deli counter, and she asked the butcher to give her the biggest cow tongue he had. She said she wanted to hang it in her front window.
The worker set about looking for a giant cow tongue.
“Excuse me,” I told the woman in the dream. “Why do you want to hang a cow tongue in your window?”
“O, all of my friends do it,” she said.
“But … why do your friends hang cow tongues in their windows?”
“I don’t know why they do it,” she said. “Why don’t you ask them?”
“I don’t want to know about your friends,” I thought, in the dream. “Or know them. Or see ‘em around. Don’t you understand? I want to know why you want to hang a cow’s tongue in your window.”
It was obvious that we would never understand one another. It was a frustration dream. As I walked out of the Kroger in the dream, I saw that no one was pushing a cart; everyone was stumbling along, leaning a bit sideways one way or another, holding a jumble in one hand, and a giant, invisible cow tongue in the other, slopped over their shoulder, dripping invisible cow saliva.
Then I saw people all over the United States were hanging cow tongues in their windows, carrying them as they cooked dinner for the family, doing their yard work, whining about having to carry those huge, sloppy cow tongues around alla time, even at work.
Well, they said, we signed up for it; I guess we’ve got to do it.
I woke up in a daze, as usual, wondering what that all was about. I had the feeling that I’m still living in that dream. Then — I was awake now — I sat down at the computer, where I’m sitting right now, and the first thing I called up was a cover story from The Economist magazine that I’d set aside to read later. The headline was “Many Japanese are still reluctant to go unmasked.”
According to The Economist, nearly everyone wore a mask during the height of the Covid-19 epidemic, even though the government never enforced a mask mandate. “A recent survey showed that half of Japanese would like to keep wearing masks as much as possible, regardless of medical advice or rules,” the magazine reported. “(I)n Japan people feel it is fair if everyone is doing it.”
According to Dr. Eric Topol, a U.S. cardiologist and a professor of medicine at the Scripps Research Institute in San Diego, Japan has had “the least cumulative deaths [from Covid] of any major country in the world.”
What’s more, “The #1 risk factor for death from Covid is advanced age, and in Japan … (about) 25% of the population is age 65 and older, whereas in the United States that proportion is substantially reduced, at 15%.” (The quotations are from Dr. Topol’s Substack, Ground Truths.)
What’s more, Japan’s population density (338 per sq. km.) is more than nine times higher than that of the United States (36 per sq. km.). And Japan’s median age, 48.6, is more than 10 years older than the median age in the United States (38.1).
Why, then, has Japan done such a better job controlling Covid than we have in the United States.
I’d say it’s because we have a higher percentage of morons here, carrying their sloppy cow tongues all over the place. I’m not talking about average intelligence; I’m talking about roughly half the country carrying around these ridiculous, slimy invisible things they picked up somewhere, probably because they saw someone else doing it: Masks = Big Brother. Vaccination is tyranny. Science teachers are groomers. Nonsense proselytized by morons, slipping in the saliva they carry around, dripping everywhere.
There might be another reason for our different Covid outcomes, but this is the best explanation I’ve heard.
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