Covid is winding down, but I’ll be fine if you fuckers stay 6 feet away from me.
There has not been much to enjoy about this pandemic with the death, isolation and economic destruction. But I have to say, I’m a fan of social distancing. You should be too.
6-feet is more than close enough. I can hear you just fine from over there — even with a mask. I don’t need your spittle or your bugger-infested fingernails getting any closer to me.
Pre-covid, people made me feel like the weirdo. I make eye contact reluctantly. I shake hands under protest. Don’t even try to hug me unless I’m married to you or one of us is dying. But during the pandemic, I’m the “norm” and you close talkers and huggers are the freaks.
It’s been a bit of a blessing not having people bump into my back in line at the grocery store. I have not missed the feel of hot breath on my neck at Walgreens.
I don’t miss high fives or chest bumps on the tennis court. I don’t miss getting squished just trying to get a second round at the bar.
There may be times when it is better to be closer than 6 feet, but I can’t think of any unless the ship is sinking and we all have to share the lifeboat.
Proximity is just forced on us by the cost of real estate. If we could all spread out as far and wide as we feel, I doubt we would be living on top of each other like rats in this crappy computer matrix.
Imagine if we enforced the 6-foot distance on airplanes. Plenty of room to stretch or lay down on a long flight. Everyone’s bags can fit in the overhead bin. Ohh sure it might be more expensive, but if every flight was like that, we would adjust to the cost. Worth it.
Imagine 6-feet at restaurants. No more hiding your political views for fear that bearded guy with the big gut, and the black and white tattoo of the American flag jiggling on his flabby tricep is packing.
Imagine parents having to keep their snot-nosed, germ-carrying progeny at least 6 feet away from you. No more kids bumping into your legs and stepping on your toes.
6-feet at a theater would be a dream. All those vaudeville theaters would have to rip out the tight rows of wooden seats and get new lazy boy recliners with drink holders. The movies would be quiet and dark with nary a phone in range of our ears.
Women should love it. 6-feet is a cure for groping. That creepy guy can’t touch your ass or shove his elbow in your breast from 6 feet away. It’s a blessing for the obese. Get as fat as you want, there will still be plenty of room in the aisle.
With 6-feet between us from here on out, we don’t need to have as much fear of the ignorant who refuse the vaccine and a mask. Distance may not be the perfect cure for stopping the virus, but it will sure reduce the odds.
I’m feeling like we need to start a movement. Let’s keep those stickers on the floor to keep the “touchers” at bay. Stay on your circle, Kevin. I don’t want to smell what you had for lunch.
Who’s with me?
Keep your distance! Keep Your Distance! KEEP YOUR DISTANCE!
There… doesn’t that feel better already?
This is my kind of office. One of the random Bobs I play tennis with shared with me so I could share with you.
Red is my new favorite color.
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