Lysol Injections and UV Enemas...

"Collective fear stimulates the herd mentality, and tends to produce ferocity towards those who are not regarded as members of the herd. " -- Bertrand Russell, "Unpopular Essays"

We've reached Peak Fucktard.

I thought we had achieved this ignominious goal several times before -- the elevation of an Affirmative Action hire to the Presidency; handing out mortgages to people who couldn't pay them back; the destruction of the Western University as a beacon of enlightenment; the elevation of the Kardashians to billionaire status --  but I have obviously been mistaken.

No, it took a most-unusual combination of unforeseen factors to bring every last fucktarded waste of gametes out from the closets, the underwear drawers, and from under the rocks where they have been hiding.

Plague, economic ruin, politics, a media-induced panic, and plain old stultifying dumbfuck, have combined to ensure that the Human Race, particularly the American Breed, could take collective leave of their feeble senses to such an extent as to make one weep for the future of Humanity as a whole.

Mind you, this Galactic Dictator always believed that half (at least) of the human race was a disease unto itself, and something akin to herd animals.

The behavior of this particular Herd made it abundantly clear that civilization stood upon a knife edge, seeing as it was the half that expected all the rewards of civilization without having to contribute anything of value towards it's continuation.

They simply multiplied, made enough noises to make their shepherds attentive to their basest emotions -- discontent, anger, moron, jealousy, fear, a pretense to self-esteem founded largely upon the lack of esteem of the self -- to respond in some fashion. Usually a fashion that was intended to shut the herd up while the shepherd went back to planning how to profit from the fleecing to come and masturbating.

A lot of masturbating.

And the Herd had learned that if you make enough noise, you get something for it. Perhaps not exactly what you wanted, but a close approximation of it, from the shepherd. The shepherd simply tossed out goodies -- the herd cared not whence they came -- and it was better than nothing. Mostly because "better" meant the herd would have to take action of it's own accord, and being sheep, discovering they lacked the collective brainpower and motivation to do little more than graze and make an occasional noise.

No, the Herd was a good, comfortable thing. The shepherd, even if he shaved your ass every spring to take your wool and occasionally ate one of your comrades or children, when he wasn't fucking one of them, at least could be counted upon to react to your noises. Why think? Why act? Why do something, anything, that made you a better sheep, since simply making noise satisfied your extraordinarily-low expectations? To show initiative, intelligence, ambition, even common sense, was to imply that there was something wrong with the Herd, and the Herd is always touchy and seeking slights, real or imagined, so as to justify more noise and more attention from the shepherds.

Better to be passive and stupid, and safe, than to be bold, imaginative and incur the wrath of the other sheep.

After all, they might unfriend you on Facebook.

That was a price the sheep were always willing to pay for having their noises reacted to. Because it was always another sheep who was getting sheered, fucked or eaten, anyway, right? The Herd remained intact and there was security in The Herd, especially in the middle; the predators only picked off those on the periphery, right? Bad things only happened to those who separated from the Herd

And then came the scourge of the Flu Manchu.

The Herd Mentality took over. Suddenly, the Herd was unsafe going about it usual business of aimlessly roaming the pastures. The Herd was now under attack from a force the shepherds could not overcome by simply reacting to mere noise and mollifying same with some shiny object or lofty promise.

The sheep became terrified.

If the shepherds couldn't understand what was happening, and the supply of shiny-objects-for-noise suddenly dried up, then what was the Herd to do? The only thing the shepherds -- guided by people they refer to as "experts" whose claim to expertise is highly questionable -- could think to do was to shove the Herd into the barn, where it came into contact with other Herds similarly imprisoned by their shepherds, herders, and tenders.

That barn got pretty crowded very quickly. Some sheep didn't make it in and succumbed to the Asian Snot Storm, which made the sheep sad, since they all believed they were going to live forever -- because they made the noise that said they should, and the Shepherd reacted by destroying the veterinary system they would depend upon in an act of Social Justice -- and this was a tragedy.

Because it meant the Herd had been reduced, and this would have drastic implications at the voting booth, where the shepherds had always told the sheep who to vote for in return for more shiny objects.

And it gave the sheep, perhaps for the first time in their lives, a sense of their own mortality; and this was, like, unfair...and stuff. The Sheep expected to survive, because someone else had studied to be a vet, and someone else had built the veterinary hospital, and someone else had been expected to pick up the tab when the sheep fell ill, and the shepherd had promised eternal life at someone else's expense. Someone the sheep referred to as "a deplorable", but whom they had never seen, having never ventured far from the Herd.

But the Shepherd insisted they existed and the sheep always believed the shepherd, even when they couldn't understand what he was talking about. Because new shiny object arrived before the perturbation coalesced around understanding.

The Herd began to doubt. The Shepherd was no longer believed. He couldn't be believed, for the reality the Sheep had now experienced -- vicariously, on television -- did not match the fantasy the Shepherd had constructed, and even sheep -- stupid, unthinking, unmotivated, easily-silenced-by-promises sheep -- had to notice.

And so they looked to someone else for leadership.

Even though the Herd had been trained from it's earliest stages to regard The Orange Ranchero with little more than reflexive disgust and fear of imminent fascism (the sheep did not know what this was, and could not recognize it when the shepherds engaged in it, but they were assured that if someone else did it, it was a bad thing), they still needed someone to lead them. The Shepherd inspired no more confidence; his vast array of  mental distractions -- Global Warming, "The Patriarchy", "Gun Control", "Free" whatever, and others --  suddenly didn't seem so important, and the shiny object trick had finally worn thin.

And the Orange Ranchero did things, the sheep knew not what, and demanded results (something the shepherd, certainly, never asked for) from these nebulous "experts", and he had even dared to disregard the Plantation the sheep had been used to grazing upon in favor of another group inimical to the Herd, called "capitalists".

The sheep are confused. They don't know what to do, or who to believe. They are torn between their loyalty to the Herd and their now-resurgent self-preservation instinct.

Another of these gaseous forms -- which calls itself "Journalists" -- circulates among the Herd. These "Journalists" insist they are due a certain level of deference and that they are entitled to be believed, because, like the "experts", they are living off the cachet their profession built up over centuries, but then discarded for it's own self-interest. These rascals are continuously whispering in the Herd's collective ears a cacophony of word vomit that is supposed to be uncritically regarded as "Truth" (because the "Journalist" is aware the Sheep regard thinking as a chore not suited to Herd life, and best left to someone else to do on it's behalf) and spiteful mendacity directed at The Orange Ranchero -- a relic of their distaste for him, based upon his frequent exposure of their own stupidity and hypocrisy, and their dislike of his "style", which is of a sort their own Herd regards as "common".

So that when The Orange Ranchero speculates about the possibilities of a certain drug being used to treat the Wuhan Fluhan, the Sheep -- with their limited capacity for independent thought, poor reading comprehension skills, and general jerkoff obtained through several generations of inbreeding -- drink Fish Tank Cleaner, and one of them dies, it's Orange Ranchero's fault.

Because "Orange Ranchero Said So" becomes the battlecry.

At least that's what the "Journalists" said he said. And the Herd, used to accepting whatever is tossed their way without thinking about it, took that as Bible Truth, and the "Journalists" said "Aha! We told you you were fucktards! That's why you should listen to us! We know everything!"

Including that they knew that The Orange Ranchero never told anyone to drink the aquatic version of Tidy Bowl, but that was too good a dig to make at El Presidente, because he doesn't participate in the annual White House Correspondents Association Dinner, which the herd of "Journalists" considers a sacrament, but which The Orange Ranchro regards with the same displeasure one does upon finding the Sheep's poop on the soles of his boots.

And in the meantime, the Shepherds keep making noises about "flattening curves" (whatever this means) and issuing grand proclamations of "numbers" which no one can agree make any sense, or are even grounded in reality, while they scream for "ventilators" and "masks", without telling you which members of the Herd need them nor how many didn't make it into the barn because of Chinese Ca-Choo or because they drank fish tank cleaner, or maybe died because the barn was full of other Herds from China and Mexico whom the shepherds seem to have more regard for than their own flocks.

It's all noise. The Sheep have been conditioned to make noise, not listen to it, never mind understand it.

Noise is just something you produce when you need stuff and then it magically appears. It seems, however, that the Shepherds keep making noises and then not getting what they want. Maybe the supply of shiny objects has dried up? Maybe because the shiny objects were all made in the same place where the Bat Poison came from? The same place the Shepherds claimed was a Sheep's Paradise with plenty of everything, because some other sheep named Marx said so.

What to do?

Make noise and do what you're told, of course. Because you have been robbed of the ability -- because that's the price paid for the "security" of the Herd -- to think of anything otherwise constructive or useful to do. Just make noise and stay put.

The shepherds, when they take some time out from begging for things that are really intended to obscure the fact that they're all colossal fuck ups who reneged on their promise of "if you like your vet, you can keep your vet" and then gave all the money that was supposed to go to the vets to people, more 'experts", who instead used it to "fight" obesity ("all that means is there was plenty of grass to graze on! What's so bad about that?", the sheep asked), and do to something called "outreach" to other (dirtier, smellier) Herds, and to make some other animal called a "trans" feel "accepted by society", which is some other Herd altogether.

Now the Sheep are trapped in the barn and if they do manage to get out the Shepherds insist they put masks on their faces, and gloves on their hooves (as if these magically appear out of the sky?). The Sheep can't even get their fleece trimmed -- that's a prerogative reserved solely for the Shepherds, not some "stylist" prole  -- and then threaten the Sheep with jail and fines and ejection from the Herd if they don't practice something called "social distancing".

Which is the direct opposite of the Herd mentality they've been accustomed to all of their brainless lives -- without the rest of the Herd to form an echo chamber and continuously reinforce each other's idiot, a single sheep is nothing, lost, detached. They loose the ability to reject objective reality and not notice because every other sheep has, too.

Eventually, the shitstorm unleashed by the Herd mentality, the induced panic, the confused and desperate Shepherds frightened by the prospect of losing their lofty positions and ability to continue to fleece the sheep, the symphony of noise from the confined Herds (some of it in Spanish), the contradictory and often useless mewling of the "experts", all of it deliberately twisted and stripped of context by the "Journalists", brings us to the somber moment where The Orange Ranchero asks a layman's question in an inartful manner, and the Herd is under the mistaken impression that he is suggesting they mainline bleach and shove light bulbs up their asses.

And the Shepherds, the "Journalists", the other brain-damaged Herds, and the "expert-because-worthless-diploma-and-government-job" all simultaneously make The Big Noise that Orange Ranchero is a modern-day Doctor Mengele.

But, they never offer anything like a viable alternative. They just make their noises in the vain hope that someone will toss them a shiny object. because that's just what fucking Herds do.

It's enough to make you puke, if the Hong Kong Killer Krud didn't cause you to evacuate your stomach contents before a messy expiration, first.

I swear, the entire country needs a goddamned regimen of 72-hour, high-pressure enemas and we should start seriously thinking of injecting some of these idiots with embalming fluid, because if left their own devices, they're only going to die of Asian Apocalypse or their own stunning fucktard, anyway.

This Herd needs some fucking thinning before it's allowed to vote again.

At least the noise would abate some.