Björk warned us way back in 1993 that if you ever get close to a human (and human behaviour) be ready be ready to get confused. I try not to get close to humans at all, but even so, human behaviour is confusing AF.
Take our all-too human Premier Dominic Perrotet, aka Parrothead. After his no-contest ascension to the penthouse suite of state politics, Parrothead’s first official act was to push Health out of the public eye and boldly declare that NSW shall henceforth go maskless.
Because if your head’s buried in the sand, you don’t need a mask.
That was October 5, when the overnight infection rate was 608. Today is December 29, and I woke to news that the overnight infection rate was 11,201. Job done, Parrothead! He told us we’d have to “learn to live with COVID” but forgot to mention we’d have no choice.
Björk’s song was written from the perspective of animals. The trillions of other lifeforms we “share” the planet with could now be excused for cheering on the virus. “Go on! Mutate again, you beautiful bastard!” roars ursus maritimus as the last iceberg melts.
Because, let’s face it, our governments have given up.
Parrothead would have incited civil war if he’d announced plans to stop the Boxing Day Test. Likewise, our New Year’s Eve fireworks will be a grand mal super-spreader, but Parrothead’s okay with that so long as everybody keeps spending money.
It’s the economy, stupid. Fiscal conservatism means COVID wins by executive decree.
Parrothead says 11,201 is our new normal, and his New Year’s resolution is to see the economy rebound after two years of nannying by previous scaredy-pants Premiers. And/or his Roman Catholic God will save us.
Probably not all of us, you understand, just some of us.
I hope Parrothead’s right.
Because if he’s wrong, then for the first time in my life I may take the knee myself. Science can no longer save us, Parrothead made sure of that. But just because he’s done with SARS-CoV-2 doesn’t mean it’s done with us.
There are still nine letters of the Greek alphabet left.