Mask On, Mask Off

When I had an eye exam the other day one of the first things the optometrist asked was whether I’d been fully vaccinated for COVID-19. I answered in the affirmative. “Me too,” he replied. If I was agreeable, he said, we could dispense with our masks.

I was agreeable.

It felt like a step toward normalcy. A baby step, to be sure, but taken in the right direction. As a society the overall goal during this pandemic era is herd immunity – as elusive as that may be. One of the last remaining obstacles is the resistence of a certain sub-set of our fellow citizens.

My new glasses?

It’s distressing that the issue of masks and vaccinations is so politicized. This is not accidental, and I fear it is but a tiny piece in a larger, divide-and-conquer picture: one that has me all but convinced we are careening toward fascism.

No one likes wearing those fucking masks. Everyone is eager to return to some semblance of normalcy, however you might define it. It is difficult not to brand those who resist masks and vaccines as fools, and/or ignorant, deceived assholes.

No one gets smallpox anymore. No one gets polio. The reason is science, of course. Vaccines.

A few days after the eye doctor I saw my physician for a well check (garden variety physical). This time, the mask stayed on. The option of removing it never even came up. Ah well.

I’m still planning on a big mask-burning party, once this thing is over (or mostly over). If you’re reading this you’re invited, although proof-of-vax may be required.

The scene: A hot summer night. A big pile of masks in the street. An eco-friendly accelerant sprinkled thereon. A match is lit, and whoosh! It all goes up in flames. Everyone cheers.

BYOB. We provide potato chips and marshmallows, and the burnt weenie sandwiches. (Tofu dogs available.)

(Others have appropriated this mask-burning idea. That’s okay; the motif is so very obvious, and stolen from mortgage-burning parties!)