I have huge breakouts all over my face and,
just because that isn’t embarrassing enough, I have a rapidly advancing,
secondary infection. I look like I’m the poster girl for a flesh eating Zombie,
end of civilization apocalypse.
Unfortunately for me, and civilization at
large, I have to do several new community admits. “Hello, I’m with your insurance company. I have the plague. Mind if I come in?”
My oldest kid went through a phase where she
desperately wanted a Medico Della Peste mask. (The disturbing, bird-like masks
the physicians wore in Venice during one of the plague outbreak.)
Perhaps I was
too hasty in denying that request.
On the other hand, it didn’t take her long to
decide she really wanted a WWII gas mask. Fortunately she grew out of the drive
for old, protective facial coverings. Makes me wonder what she had been planning.
One more thought. During the Plague, circa
1350, one half to one third of the population of Europe died, including the
peasants in the workforce. Enter the economic principles of supply and demand
and the shortage of back breaking laborers meant peasants had a little more
choice in what job they did and how they were compensated. At least until the Aristocrats
and their Rent-a-Knight enforcers put a stop to that kind of foolishness.
So, fast food workers, trying to live on a non-livable wage, I am all for a protest and a strike. However, when the corporate executives send out the Pinkerton enforcement goons to break things up, consider taking out half of your competition. I’ll bet management will have a change in heart.
If you need access to a plague, just let me
know.
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