celebrities, dogs, funny stories, Germany

“Won’t you be our neighbor?”… My inner Mister Rogers

At about four o’clock yesterday afternoon, the doorbell rang. Since it was Martin Luther King Day and Bill was home, he answered the door. He was soon faced with a grim faced German man he’d never seen before, who started speaking to him. Bill said the man was a bit odd and even seemed slightly out of it.

Our older dog, Arran the beagle mix, started barking, as he always does when strangers come to the door. Bill couldn’t hear our unexpected visitor over the barking, nor could he really understand what the guy was saying, as Bill’s German skills are somewhat basic, but less basic than mine are. One word he did hear and understand was “Tierschutz” (animal protection), which immediately caused us some concern.

Bill told the guy that he speaks only a little bit of German. The guy got pissed and went to our landlord’s house next door. Bill then came up to our bedroom to tell me what happened. As he was explaining the bizarre scenario, the doorbell rang again. Thinking maybe it was the landlord coming over to tell us what was wrong, Bill answered it, and it was the same grumpy guy. This time, he seemed somewhat apologetic, although he didn’t actually apologize. He said something along the lines of “Your dogs are always inside.” Then he gave Bill a dismissive wave and stalked off.

I always get agitated when someone presumes to yell at me, or at Bill, for that matter. Especially if I’m in my own home, minding my own damned business. I told Bill that he should have borrowed my Mister Rogers cap, which is a bizarre Chinese creation that was offered for sale on Amazon.de last summer. I see that it’s now no longer available. Small wonder.

Yes, that is THE Mister Rogers on my cap…

I bought the cap on a whim. I’m wearing it in the featured photo, which was taken right after I got out of the shower yesterday, hence my slight resemblance to Nick Nolte coming down from a GHB bender, circa 2002. One of my friends said I am better looking than Nick Nolte is. I was flattered by that, since Nick Nolte was People Magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive” in 1992. When she reminded me that 1992 was thirty years ago, I replied that, just like Nick, I was also sexier thirty years ago.

That photo of Mister Rogers has circulated quite a lot around the Internet. I once even made a meme of it, which I posted below. Mister Rogers was almost surely unaware of what his two middle fingers were indicating when that photo was taken. I see from a video on Dailymotion that it comes from a song he did with little kids, back in the day…

Hee hee hee!

*Actually, I think this image is even funnier than the one with both middle fingers. I wish the enterprising Amazon.de seller in China had offered this, instead.*

*I made this meme years ago… The quote is by George Carlin. I think Mister Rogers and George Carlin would have made a hell of a team!*

Bill and I handle these types of intrusions very differently. Bill is much more polite than I am, and he always attempts to speak German. When someone uninvited rings my doorbell and starts speaking rapid fire German to me, I usually interrupt them in English and tell them I don’t understand them, even if I do. Nine times out of ten, the people who do that stuff are either trying to sell me something or looking for odd jobs… or in a couple of unfortunate situations, they were people up to no good, casing the house to see who lives there and if they’re home.

Upon considering what the guy said, his strange demeanor, and the sort of half-assed non-apology the guy later gave Bill, we eventually determined that maybe the fellow is someone who lives in the neighborhood, but isn’t someone with whom we’ve ever interacted. We think he was upset that our German next door neighbor, who lives in the house on the other side of us, was leaving her adorable, but loud, Labrador dog, Tommi, outside. Tommi barks a lot when he’s outside. It is definitely noticeable, but it doesn’t bother me much. It’s not like he’s out there all day or anything. I think she or her mother puts him out there for a short time once or twice a day. While he’s out there, he lets everyone know he’s bored, lonely, or whatever.

It’s actually against the law in Germany to leave dogs home alone for long periods of time, and if they make excessive noise, some folks will call the police. We have been pretty lucky, as our neighbors have all been relatively dog friendly, even though we have usually had beagles, and beagles can be very loud. Now that we have Noyzi, it’s really only Arran who raises hell on a regular basis. Noyzi usually stays pretty quiet, unless he’s watching pet grooming or fox hunting videos. But I’m usually home with the dogs, and they aren’t allowed to be outside unsupervised.

Bill dresses down Arran for counter surfing. See? We do discipline our dogs!

Bill said he was sitting on the toilet and heard the man speaking to someone before he rang our doorbell. Perhaps it was the people who live across the cul-de-sac from us. Maybe he asked them who has dogs and they pointed to us. I don’t know if he knew we’re Americans and maybe figured we don’t know the rules here, or he just wanted to yell at dog owners who might be the culprit of his annoyance. But it was still a weird situation, as Bill didn’t understand him for three reasons– Arran was barking, the guy was rambling, and he was speaking German. And the cranky guy didn’t give Bill a chance to step outside to talk to him without Arran’s input.

Then, after he got frustrated trying to talk to Bill, the guy spoke to our other neighbors, who also happen to be our landlords. My guess is that our landlord, or someone in his house, told the guy that we never leave our dogs outside alone. So when he rang the bell the second time, he said “Bei Ihnen (unintelligible) immer”, which confused Bill, until he later translated it to “Bei innen (unintelligible) immer” (something like, “your dogs are always inside”). Then the guy gave him a resigned wave, and left.

It’s true that our current landlords are pretty laid back, and they get paid well to let us be their neighbors, but they’ve actually told us that they rarely hear our dogs. When we still had Zane, they were louder. Zane would go out in the middle of the night to pee and get on scents, which caused him to bay on occasion. But Noyzi doesn’t bark a lot, and Arran really only barks when someone rings the doorbell. He doesn’t even bay a lot when we walk him anymore. Tommi, on the other hand, is only around a year old. He’s young, energetic, and adorable, and yes, he barks like a big guy. I’m not surprised the sound carried.

Tommi was adopted after our neighbors lost their very sweet elderly Labrador, Levi, whom they adopted from an American who couldn’t take him with him when he moved. Levi was a WONDERFUL dog… very friendly, well-behaved, and a perfect citizen. I think our neighbors fell in love with Labradors, which aren’t necessarily popular over here. Unfortunately, Levi got very sick with cancer and died while he was having surgery to remove some tumors in his stomach. I’m sure Tommi will eventually become as sweet, obedient, and adorable as Levi was, but he’s still very young and rambunctious. Even our wonderful beagle Zane, whom I think had some Lab in him, was a holy terror when we first got him. After about six months, he morphed into the most wonderful family dog. It was like magic. I have every reason to assume that will happen for Tommi, too.

I suppose I should, in part, thank the pandemic for yesterday’s chance meeting with an apparently angry neighbor. COVID-19 has really altered our lives. Most of the years we’ve been in Germany, we’ve taken every opportunity to travel over long American holiday weekends. Nowadays, we’re more inclined to stay home, mainly because travel has become so complicated and annoying, even though Bill and I are both thrice COVID vaccinated. This year, we also need to get Noyzi updated on his vaccines, which will happen today.

I shared this story on Facebook and people loved my Mister Rogers hat. But only one person wanted to know where I got it, and NO ONE seemed interested in why I have it! One friend, who happens to be German, said it was because she’s no longer surprised by the crazy shit I say and do… and wear. For the record, I was inspired to buy the hat because of my dad. I’ve already shared the story about my dad and his middle finger woes.

The short version, for those who don’t want to click the link, is that my parents took me to visit the Waterside Marketplace in Norfolk, Virginia, back in 1984 or so, when it was still new. The Waterside had a really cool hat shop that had all of these funny baseball caps. I wanted one that had a little felt dog on the brim and a plastic fire hydrant. You could pull a string and the dog would lift its leg on the hydrant. Sadly, I didn’t have any money and my parents didn’t want to indulge my proclivities for being obnoxious.

Dad did make a purchase, though. It was a black baseball cap that had a bright yellow stuffed felt hand with the middle finger raised, big as life. My dad, who was never one to swear and was unaware of what the middle finger meant, bought the cap. He said he was going to wear it to his next Rotary meeting and say, “I don’t agree with ANY of you.”

My mom said, “You are not going to wear that, are you?”

“Sure! Why not?” Dad said with a laugh.

“You are NOT going to wear that in public!” my mom said, her voice edged with resolute firmness.

“Yes I am.” Dad argued.

“Do you KNOW what that MEANS?” Mom demanded.

“Doesn’t it mean ‘go to Hell’?” Dad asked, somewhat chastened.

“Uh uh.” Mom said, leaning over to whisper in his ear.

Dad kind of blanched sheepishly, and that was the end of his big idea to shock his conservative business friends and pillars of the community in Gloucester, Virginia.

Meanwhile, I thought it was funny that my mom didn’t want to define it out loud, since even at age eleven or twelve, I knew what a middle finger stood for, even if I didn’t know what “getting laid” meant. So I said, “Hey guys, I know what it means.”

The profane middle finger hat was kept under the driver’s seat of my dad’s car for many years, never to see the light of day. I wish I had stolen it from him. I thought it was hilarious, and I haven’t seen one like it being sold anywhere since the 80s. When I saw Mister Rogers’ middle finger on a hat, though, I figured that was close enough. And since it’s no longer available, I guess that hat was just meant to be mine…

Incidentally, my dad also suffered from PTSD, which was brought on by his time in Vietnam. Sadly, he almost lost his middle finger to injury when he had a nightmare and jumped out of bed one night, punching the wall. He didn’t take care of the injury properly, and came very close to needing an amputation. Yikes!

For an update on this post, click here.

mental health, musings, psychology

My rebellious streak…

This morning, I got an ad from Facebook for a t-shirt. It was about the proper way to wear face masks and it starred Snoopy, famed comic beagle.

As much as I love Peanuts, beagles, and t-shirts, I can’t imagine having the nerve to wear something like this in public. If you’re a regular reader of this blog, you already know how I feel about people who have didactic motivations. I think wearing a t-shirt like this would be pretty obnoxious behavior.

To be clear, I am certainly not above being obnoxious. I guess I just prefer my brand of obnoxious behavior to be more along the lines of being loud, vulgar, and crude. I have pretty much hated the face mask evangelism movement ever since it became popular a few months ago. From the beginning, I have said that I’d rather stay home than wear a mask. That’s mainly what I do. When I go in public, I do wear a mask, but I hate doing it. And while I wear the mask properly and notice when people wear them the wrong way, I wouldn’t feel comfortable confronting someone over it. Wearing a t-shirt or mask like these is basically confronting everyone who sees it. I find it off putting, rather than cute.

*I would sooner wear this penis mask than the instructive Snoopy mask.* *I especially enjoy what appears to be drops of something falling off the penises in the center of the masks.* *Actually, I probably WOULDN’T wear this… but I completely agree with the irreverent sentiment.*

I might not be opposed to wearing a mask that has tiny dicks all over it. That’s also an obnoxious thing to do, but at least if someone comments on it, I can tell them they need to socially distance more. For all of my talk about vulgar subjects, the reality is that I’m not really that vulgar in practice. I don’t enjoy looking at genitals– male or female, even when they are in comic form like the ones pictured above. But I do like to shock people. It’s one of my less appealing characteristics.

I don’t wear “cute” masks. I don’t want to get into that trend, because I want this face mask thing to be a temporary requirement. I did try to order cloth masks from Novica, but the ones I chose were backordered and by the time they finally became available, I had a new credit card and the old one no longer worked. The payment was rejected, and correcting it would have been more of a hassle than I wanted to deal with, so I cancelled the order. I’m still wearing paper masks on the rare occasions I go somewhere where they are required. I might get a cloth mask if they’re more comfortable, but really, I hope they go out of style soon. Some people will happily wear them from now on. Not me.

I don’t know why I’m like this… I have a rebellious streak, I guess. I’ve mentioned before that it took me many years to get into the habit of wearing a seatbelt, even after wearing them became law in Virginia back in 1988. I’ve always hated them. I really hated them when I was a child, and would pitch a fit when my dad would– on occasion– make me wear them. I think it was mostly because he usually forced me to wear them when he was in control freak mode or wanted to punish me. My parents always wore their seatbelts. I never saw either of them drive or ride in a car without one on. But they were very inconsistent about making me wear them. A lot of times, they let me get away without wearing one because I would throw huge tantrums.

Then I married Bill, who is a safety fanatic. And we bought cars that ding incessantly if I don’t wear a seatbelt. And we live in a country where not wearing them results in large fines. And it’s become a habit, even though I still find them annoying. Actually, the Volvo’s seatbelts are very comfortable and I barely notice them. The ones in my Mini are less comfortable, but if that car gets in an accident, I’m probably less likely to survive. On the other hand, this year has sucked enough that maybe being beamed up early isn’t such a bad idea. At least I won’t have any more problems or worries. And it’s not like anyone depends on me.

The other day, I mentioned on Facebook my hatred for seatbelts. I posted about it because I read a fascinating article on History.com about how back in the 1980s, politicians who boosted seatbelt laws were labeled as akin to Hitler and regularly got hate mail from people who didn’t want to be told what to do in the form of a nanny law. There was a tremendous lobby against seatbelt laws and automotive safety. A lot of it was due to money and people’s concepts of “personal freedom”.

Car makers didn’t want to spend the money to make cars safer by installing driver’s side airbags, and people didn’t want to be told what to do. Also, seatbelts in the 1970s and 80s were not nearly as comfortable or adjustable as they are today, so they truly were uncomfortable and restrictive. In the end, we ended up with tons of airbags and seatbelt laws. Most people wear seatbelts now… and a lot fewer people seem to go to church. I wonder if there is a connection. But it’s taken many years to get to where we are today. People really resisted seatbelt laws back in the day, and did their best to defeat features like automatic seatbelts and interlock systems that would not allow a car to start without a fastened seatbelt.

It’s always amusing to read the comments from people when I dare say something publicly about how much I hate seatbelts and miss the days when wearing them was voluntary. Group think really is an issue these days. To be clear, I do wear seatbelts, just like I wear masks. I just don’t like wearing them. I don’t understand why some people feel like a person has to comply with safety rules AND like that they are complying. For many people, it’s not enough for a person to simply comply with the rules. They also have to be a booster, or else they need an “intervention” of some sort and a lecture!

I got the usual comments about how some people won’t move their cars until everyone is wearing a seatbelt. But then I got a comment from my former shrink, who has since become a friend. He wrote about how he lost a friend he knew who was earning her Ph.D. She had just finished her training and passed her oral exams, and had gone on a date with the guy who had been the best man at my former shrink’s wedding. While my ex shrink’s friends were on their date, their car skidded around a corner and ran up against a tree. The car was an older model and the door handle protruded. The handle was sheared off as the car door hit the tree and the passenger side door flew open. The woman who had just passed her oral exams flew out of the car and fractured her spine, which killed her instantly. Ex shrink promised his friend, who had survived the crash, that he would always wear a seatbelt. He strongly encouraged me to do the same.

I was touched that my former shrink would share that story with me. I think if my dad had expressed more kindness and actual concern for me over this issue rather than stern military-esque orders, he would have gotten a much more compliant attitude from me in response. But my dad was often formal and controlling, and he was very much a military guy. That didn’t mean he wasn’t sometimes fun and loving, but he had a habit of issuing orders in an overbearing, offensive way that didn’t sit well with me. So I often rebelled, although when he wasn’t in a controlling mood, he was pretty negligent, so I didn’t have a need to rebel that often… if that makes sense.

Like– I never had a curfew, and my parents preferred that I work, even if it would have affected my performance in school or was dangerous in some way. I have a deep scar on my arm from the time when I was ten, and my dad made me break down cardboard boxes with a box cutter. Naturally, I cut the wrong way and injured myself. He didn’t even take me to a doctor for stitches and a tetanus shot, which I clearly needed (the blade went through all layers of skin). Whenever another adult had a complaint about me, his response was to immediately side with the other adult, yell at, and physically punish me, rather than hear my side of the story. He rarely protected me and instead, acted like a bully. As you can see, that treatment left lasting scars beyond the one on my arm. I don’t tolerate bullies anymore.

My mom was not strict at all about most things. My dad was strict only when he felt like being strict or something affected him personally. But his strictness was haphazard and inconsistent, and more often involved the threat of physical punishment and yelling than actual concern for my well-being. Also, my parents were very worried about what other people thought, which also didn’t sit well with me, and still doesn’t, when I see that attitude in other people. I am much more impressed by people who care about what their loved ones think than what the neighbors think.

I do think my dad loved me. I don’t think he shared his love and concern in a constructive way that translated very well. He was often kind of mean to me. Consequently, I rebelled when he issued orders, and I chafed at his attempts to control me, even when it came to things that were supposedly for my own good, like wearing seatbelts. And the fact that my former shrink, who hasn’t seen me in person since 2004, showed what appears to be more genuine concern for me than my dad ever did, is not lost on me. But then, my dad sometimes showed his love in other ways, like when he would make me periscopes out of mirrors and matte board, and when he helped me move to South Carolina for graduate school (though that was partly for his benefit).

When I met Bill, I finally found a genuinely kind, caring, loving man who honestly had real regard for me as a person. I don’t mind wearing a seatbelt for him, because it’s not about issuing orders and having me obey him. He actually cares, even though I like to joke about him becoming “Pat Boone”. I think my former shrink cares, too. He wrote that he doesn’t want to lose another friend. The fact that my ex shrink sees me as a friend means a lot to me. He’s in a line of work that puts him in contact with all sorts of very difficult people. I must not be so bad, after all– despite public opinion to the contrary. 😉 It’s reassuring.

I loved this show. It’s a British show that aired on Nickelodeon when I was a kid. I would actually stay home from the barn so I could watch it, because it aired at 3:00pm.

One last side note. I recently wrote about how I “married Black Beauty” and Bill married “Ginger”. If you’ve ever read the book, Black Beauty, by Anna Sewell, it might make sense. Black Beauty was a well-bred, well-mannered, beautiful black stallion who always worked hard, was honest, and was well-behaved. Ginger was a hard working mare who did not tolerate abuse and would kick up a fuss when she was treated badly. Black Beauty and Ginger never “got together”, but I always got the sense that they were kind of a couple. I have been encouraging Bill to read Anna Sewell’s classic book. I think he’d like it, and understand more clearly what I mean when I tell him he reminds me of Black Beauty, while I’m more like Ginger.

A scene featuring Black Beauty and Ginger in a movie version… Ginger takes no shit.

social media, Trump

Rebellion!

I woke up this morning at about 4:30am. It’s not uncommon for me to wake up early, especially this time of year. In Germany, we get a lot of sunlight in the summer– a lot more than we get in the States. The sun rises super early and doesn’t set until about 9:30 or 10:00pm. Consequently, I wake sooner than I should have to, and often end up reading the news, which makes me wake up even more.

Once again, I read more about the insane state of the world. A friend shared a couple more articles about the importance of face mask wearing. I just wrote about that yesterday, and I don’t really want to write about it again today… and yet it’s on my mind and I feel compelled. I think the masks are becoming symbolic of the overall mood we’re all in these days. A lot of people are stressed out, angry, and scared. There’s a lot of yelling and opining going on, but not much listening. People on both sides of the spectrum– whether it’s about politics or public health– are feeling fed up. It feels like the whole western world is throwing a huge temper tantrum.

COVID-19 is the icing on the “shit” cake that is Donald Trump’s presidency. On the liberal side, there are many vocal cheerleaders for mask wearing. They plead, cajole, lecture, virtue signal, and when that doesn’t work, insult the non mask wearers, mostly assumed to be Trump supporters. The non mask wearers, who are often conservatives, respond defiantly and angrily. The volume level grows ever more shrill, even on social media. No one is stopping to take a deep breath and consider the other sides of the issues. Instead, many people devolve into trading personal insults, which after awhile prove challenging for even the most reasonable person to resist. And instead of being convinced to change their minds about the issues, people come away from those interactions even more stubbornly entrenched in their views.

I have not made it a secret that I am not a fan of the face masks. However, I don’t begrudge other people’s views on mask wearing. And I don’t go out in public very often at all, so I am not putting anyone at risk by not wearing a mask. I have literally only been in a public place once since March 14th. For the very brief time I was in public back in April, I did wear a mask. I hated every minute of that experience and decided I’d rather just stay home. So, until today, that’s what I have been doing. Today, I will go out, because tomorrow is my birthday, and Bill wants to take me away for the weekend. However… to be honest, I’m more nervous than excited about it. I kind of don’t want to go.

Staying home hasn’t totally shielded me from the hostility of the world. It’s my own fault for being on social media, and I have been considering getting off of it… I’ve also been thinking about making this blog private, mainly because I’m finding it harder to deal with people anymore. Many, many people, who probably aren’t really as mean they appear to be on Facebook, are coming off as unkind and unreasonable. In the last few weeks, the couple of times I have left comments for friends that weren’t the “popular” viewpoint, I have been attacked by complete strangers who have called me names, made unflattering assumptions about my character, and are not at all interested in having a civilized conversation.

This morning, I found two Facebook posts about face masks shared within the same hour by a friend. One article, inflammatorily titled “A Mask is a Stupid Hill to Die on, America“, pretty much illustrates my theory about why some people are being so stubborn. In that article by John Pavlovitz, I found the following:

*Personally, I found these statements offensive… and that made me disinclined to be swayed by Mr. Pavolovitz’s impassioned writing.*

First of all, I’m definitely not a narcissist. If I were a narcissist, I’d be out in public, brazenly breaking the rules and defiantly protesting the masks. But, as I wrote above, I’ve been staying home for the past three months and have gotten to the point at which an idea that used to excite me– going somewhere and staying in a hotel– actually has me feeling scared and nervous. Seeing people wearing masks doesn’t make it better. It’s just a visual reminder of what we’ve lost over the past few years.

I’m not even that afraid of getting sick. COVID-19 is pretty well controlled in Germany, and people here are very respectful in terms of doing what is necessary to control the spread of the virus. I just feel very anxious about being out and about… and that makes me feel angry and resentful. I feel like most of the things that I enjoy… things that make life worth living– have been suddenly taken away. I don’t enjoy life that much as it is, so this pandemic makes it worse. And having some blogger who doesn’t even know anything about me assume that I’m a narcissist because I’m not on the mask bandwagon is very offensive to me. I’m not inclined to change my mind after reading his piece. But I don’t think he wrote it for me, anyway. I think it was written for those who are already believers and want to cast shame on those who don’t feel the same way they do. They feel better for reading and sharing it, even if the person who wrote it really didn’t do much to change hearts and minds as much as he vented.

And secondly, I think anyone who reads this blog or follows me on Facebook knows how I feel about Donald Trump. I probably don’t need to write much more about that. I think he’s a vile scumbag who has made this situation so much worse than it really needed to be. I resent him, too.

I was glad, at least, to see that Mr. Pavlovitz added this last bit to his post:

Note: Obviously, people with health conditions and PTSD which make wearing a mask difficult or impossible are exempt from this piece. (The rest of you know who you are.)

Even if you do have a condition that makes wearing a mask difficult or impossible, you’re still going to be confronted, harassed, and expected to explain yourself. Never mind that many people prefer not to tell strangers about their health. I mean, in the USA, doctors aren’t even allowed to discuss their patients’ health conditions with other doctors unless they get permission. But I’m expected to explain– to any stranger who confronts me and demands to know why I’m not wearing a mask– that I have asthma, or another condition that would make the mask difficult to wear. And even then, it’s not likely the other person would believe me anyway.

My Facebook friend shared another article on Market Watch about an hour after she shared John Pavlovitz’s piece. This one, entitled “Why do so many Americans refuse to wear face masks? Politics is part of it — but only part”. Against my better judgment, I read that article, too. I almost left my friend a comment, but then remembered what happened a couple of weeks ago, when I made the mistake of opining about another article she shared in which someone was being called a “Karen”… I think it was one about Amy Cooper. I also have the unpopular opinion that Amy Cooper isn’t necessarily a racist for calling the cops on birder Christian Cooper, nor do I think it’s appropriate to ruin her life over that incident. Two different people, complete strangers to me, automatically jumped down my throat because I didn’t agree with them. Since those arguments took place, I’ve seen even more evidence that Amy Cooper isn’t actually a racist so much as she’s someone with a “high conflict personality”. In other words, she’s probably kind of an asshole to everyone… not just people of color. Or so it appears from that article, anyway.

Since tomorrow is my birthday, I don’t want to get into an argument with anyone today. So I deleted what I wrote on my friend’s second article about face masks. It’s kind of a shame that I felt the need to do that, since I think the purpose of sharing news articles is to generate discussion. My thoughts were formed after reading the comments on the Market Watch’s piece linked above. The comments people left were almost all hostile and disrespectful, on either side of the argument. Again… lots of people feel fine about “loudly” sharing their views, but they aren’t at all interested in considering what the other side thinks. They’ve made up their minds, have collectively folded their arms, toughened their stances, keep parroting the same lines over and over again, and have closed their ears to anything else. So what’s the point of sharing an opinion?

That attitude is what makes people want to rebel. I could easily share some of the comments on the Market Watch piece here, but there are just so many of them, and reading them is depressing. Even the ones I agree with are stated with so much indignation and disrespect that I just don’t even want to go there.

People keep preaching about mask wearing. They have less to say about hand washing, which is even more important when it comes to arresting disease transmission. But it’s easy to see the mask, and so it seems a lot easier to enforce. It makes some people feel better when people wear them. Others, like me, are creeped out by them. We’re told to “get over it and get used to it” because “this is the new normal”. Our concerns are deemed silly or unimportant. I’ve been treated this way my whole life by my loved ones, so now, when I get the same treatment, especially from strangers on the Internet, I feel the need to either rebel or ponder how I can make a quick exit from the world.

Adding to this conflict is the fact that Americans have often been encouraged to think for themselves, do their own research, and not be “sheep”. Coronavirus has only been a worldwide issue for a few months. Even the leaders don’t know what they’re doing. Consider these two conflicting tweets from the U.S. Surgeon General, anesthesiologist Jerome Adams:

Now… this isn’t to say that the masks aren’t useful. But consider that it was only a few months ago that the Surgeon General was imploring people in all caps to “STOP BUYING MASKS”. He’s supposed to know what he’s doing. His advice completely changed in a span of three months. Remember what I wrote about seatbelts. It took YEARS to get the majority of people to wear them consistently. I suspect there will be people who will never be willing to wear the masks, just like some people still don’t buckle up in the car. For some reason, this morning when I was talking to Bill about this, I was reminded of prisoners in chains going out in the “free world” for whatever reason. They’re out in the world– but they’re wearing chains because they must. Maybe that’s why some people feel oppressed by the masks, even though they’re worn for public health reasons. People don’t like to be told they “must” do something, especially when it involves wearing something on their own bodies, even if it’s for their own or the common good. They want to rebel, no matter how many times you explain to them why you’re “right”.

I don’t see this issue as the same as “no shirt, no shoes, no service”, either. The convention to wear shirts and shoes in public has been part of the culture for many years, and besides, going without them would often be physically uncomfortable. Masks are very new, and they are uncomfortable… and they are a constant reminder of how shitty things are right now. I don’t want to wear a mask in exchange for the “privilege” of going out, especially when so many people don’t seem to be folks I’d want to be around, anyway. Seriously… people are pissed off. They are right to be pissed. The world is full of suck right now. But I have enough angst without adding to it by being around people who are angry, hostile, and demanding.

Anyway… I could write more about this topic. In fact, I have another related topic that I wanted to write about today. But our new guitars arrived yesterday, so I think I’m going to stop here and practice. At least I’m using the pandemic to pick up a new skill… and the beauty of that is that at this point, no one wants to hear me play guitar anyway.

The Overeducated Housewife

Just another boring blog about a boring housewife…

Tag Archives: rebellion

“Won’t you be our neighbor?”… My inner Mister Rogers

My rebellious streak…