The Child, The Father, The President* And The Excrement

Many years ago, I was a little child.

Tiny. Defenceless. Looking for protection.

I remember, vividly, to this day, that whenever I went for a walk with my papa, my little hand instinctively searched his; or, better said, that one or two finger of his that were all I could get with my little fingers.

When my papa reached his hand (or, rather, two fingers thereof) to me, I grasped them with all the confidence of the little child. And I, so little and defenceless, proudly walked with my papa, who was big and strong; and felt safe, and reassured, and quite in my element.

I don’t know how long those walks were, because I must have been very tiny, and the speed forcibly limited. But I never remember tiring of it. I never remember fatiguing my little arm, for example, though I can still distinctly remember that my hands were so little, that they had quite a solid purchase with only two fingers of his. This is, I think, what happens when you feel, as a child, as happy as a child.

Alas, it seems to me that the same phenomenon is, on a planetary scale, and with some notable variations, going on right now, in the Age of the Chinese Virus.

It seems to me that hundreds of millions of people feel, as I write this, just like little children , and patiently wait for the big, reassuring hand of Dr Fauci, Dr Birx, Andrew Cuomo, Gavin Newsom, Boris Johnson, or even Dementia Joe Biden giving them (pun intended) two fingers and telling them whereto the walk leads: more lockdowns, more misery, more business closures, more quiet desperation, and more suicides.

Being little children – who never had to go through great difficulties in life, or who have forgotten them -, they grasp the two finger of Dr Fauci, or of Creepy President* Biden, and never let go. I don’t think they have much of that confident pride I had when I was walking with my papa (but then my papa loved me, and had my interest at heart); still, they have decided that it is for Fauci and Birx, for Johnson and Biden, for Newsom and Cuomo and Merkel to tell them how miserable they have to be, and they find some reassurance in this.

They seem to think something along the lines of : “I am about to enter month 12 of the lockdown; some of my friends are about to go bankrupt, and the one or other might decide to take the fast way out; but if papa Biden is telling me to walk through a sea of excrement and say nothing at all, there must be a good reason for this”.

Alas, there isn’t.

You aren’t a little child anymore.

And President* Biden is, more likely than not, papa to a drug-addicted pervert.