Well its been a pretty normal day for me in the new reality. Working, sleeping, shoveling a dead pigeon off my balcony. That last one got me into a little trouble with the neighbours. Granted I should have checked to see there were no small, easily traumatised children walking underneath when I sent the pigeon on its final flight or, rather, plummet but I honestly think the reaction was little over the top. I'm pretty sure the thing didn't die of COVID-19.
On more specifically virus related news I'm getting a little sick of the number of politicians who have found it vital to announce that the Easter Bunny will not be subject to quarantine measures. I can't help wondering what they would do if Jesus turned up. After all, a Middle Eastern man in a grubby robe spattered with bloodstains? He'd be in isolation and probably an internment camp before you could say "racial profiling".
Along with the Easter Bunny my state's Arts Minister assumed social distancing and non travel rules didn't apply to him either. Which is why the Premier of my august state had to take time off from very important duties to tell this idiot that wandering off to his holiday home for Easter was a stupid thing to do. So if the Easter Bunny does get gunned down by the cossacks of NSW Police's Riot & Public Order Squad because the paperwork on his quarantine exemption hadn't been completed remember; its the fault of our Arts Minister.
I tried to contact my Tasmanian correspondent but in an increasingly desperate attempt to divert two young children who are teetering on the edge of full blown psychosis she recently flooded her house with black and yellow paint. At the moment the results look like a cross between a quarantine hospital and a Habsburg restoration movement. The Tasmanian government is deploying helicopters (where the hell did they get helicopters?) to monitor the movement of the population to ensure they're doing as little of it as possible. Apparently the place is like a low rent version of Apocalypse Now.
One of our MPs raised the issue of Julian Assange currently rotting in a British prison. Apparently COVID-19 has been discovered in British prisons (along with syphillis, AIDS, makeshift weapons and a whole bunch of drugs in all likelihood) and that therefore he should be released to home detention. No mention was made of all the others in British prisons. Apparently they can just die.
New coronavirus infections countrywide have dropped below the one hundred person mark for the first time prompting restrained outbursts of glee from medical authorities and politicians. It does seem that the occasional Arts Minister and slaughtered bunny notwithstanding the various restrictions appear to be working.
On a personal note I managed to persuade the one person still working at
my office to water my plant and my local store has taken to selling
sugar in plastic bags. At least I assume it was sugar, I put some in my
coffee and I feel amazing! I'm looking forward to Easter when I will be able to recuperate from the daily grind of sitting in front of my computer by sitting in front of my computer. I'm so desperate to get out of the house that I actually plan to go jogging tomorrow (exercise is still allowed I think) despite the fact that I'm fifty one years old and have the lung capacity of a squirrel. If exercise isn't still allowed you may find my lifeless corpse sprawled over that of the Easter Bunny.
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