As a number of countries reach the mid point of the harsh (we hope) version of the Coronavirus lockdown I thought we should examine patience. After all, we’re gonna need it.
Patience is something we have to relearn cos let’s face it none of us have it any more. We’ve all pretty much gotten the saintly virtue bashed out of us by, well, life. I mean, how in Mahatma Gandhi are we supposed to remain calm and zen like and mr mystic-yogi-go-round-like-an-anorexic-loony-in-a-loin-cloth when we have to put up with CNN 24 hours a day, emails banging at our smartphone like a friggin woodpecker on coke, the bosses ragging on us like we never dumped the parents all while the debts on those damned pay day loans have us perpetually charging around at 3,000 goddamned miles per hour just to keep up with the blasted interest rates/debt collectors/online bank manager avatar and perhaps worse of all – the wife nagging. And all of that acts merely as the day time precursor to a hell bent sleepless night (I wish I was in Seattle) with the twin toddlers blaring away in my left ear like a Harley Davidson with a sawn off exhaust.
So now, like the invisible crack hand, along comes Covid-19 solely to add yet another (like we needed it) stress tanker of fuel to the manic wildfire (sorry Australia) of our clearly non patient lives – even if for one second we put aside the minor, miniature, irrelevant reprieve from the debt collector who’s gone strangely Corona quiet and my Damian like bosses who shut my frigging smartphone email up right after they delivered a warp speed, Harley sized, boot up the ass trip to benefits town presumably so the owner-likes of Philip Green/Richard Branson/Mike Ashley can just keep living in the style they’re so entitled er accustomed to. But heyho, who cares, certainly not Donald or Boris.
I do, though, have some good news for you and let’s face it we need a little cos so long as the above dynamic duo keep managing things as they are we’ll all have the curve flattened on our life expectancy meaning a swift goodbye to us (which is not the good news) but might also mean bye bye debt collector’s, bosses, bankers, CNN news presenters or whatever (and this could be the good news). Saying that, if this doesn’t come to pass then no worries at all cos we’ll just get back to good ol’ life as usual stressed and miserable as hell. What though, say you, is the good news if the latter kicks in? Well der, it’s obviously that the second wave of Covid-19 means it mutates to the point where it only targets rear-line workers like debt collectors, bankers, bosses and the dynamic duo. Tara!
Saying all this, I still believe there could be another way. There might be a more cosmic, karmic, saintly, dare I say even God like solution to this whole Coronastress life bouncing right back at ya to shitty normal thing. Cos one day, as if by some hand of acid taking fate, Coronavirus might wake up and get fed up to hell being stuck in our slightly pathetic, manic, hyper wired, last person on earth to actually still shop at the Gap, self-centrico, Kardashian watching bodies and sod off to another planet where the inhabitants are less, well, like us. You know, where marijuana’s legal. And if for some bizarre reason that doesn’t happen we can just go and get religion/foraging/yogic/a life/rid of the Donnie and Boris act or an oven to stick our heads in.
I think I’ll go download that podcast on the three minute guide to wellbeing by the Kardashians.
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Philip Letts 