Sunday, March 8, 2020

ROBBLOG #822- Nuts to You

I don’t know what’s up these days.

With me?
Is it the Coronavirus, the Covid -19 disease?
Am I worried about Covid-20 or 21.
For now, I'm still breathing, not coughing, nor am I lining up at Costco at an ungodly hour to buy toilet paper. TP will not save you from Zombies and if this virus is any example of the tons of Zombie movies we've had shoved in our faces over the years, Toilet Paper is NOT going to save us.

I would be upset of course if I had a trip planned to Italy with Corona virus on the loose.
Holy Cow!
I'll bet the Pope is praying to his non-existent Gawd overtime these days.
So far he's in the clear. I'll bet they have him sealed in a plastic garbage bag for safety!
The Italians surrounding the Vatican are shutting down half their country to save Italians and maybe that might be a good idea. 
The Pope's prayers don't seem to be having any effect on ridding us of the infection.
Is this just the latest in bad jokes from the almighty?
I can imagine the sermons in born-again churches these days.
Is that the hooves of the four horsemen I hear or Peter McKay's lips flapping in the Canadian breeze speaking his truth- namely right-wing rhetoric.

To be frank, we have to corral this doomsday disease before all we cough and wheeze our way into the next dimension.
There's just not enough room in Heaven if we all were to shuffle from this mortal state together. Cripes, the house prices in Heaven- and Hell (that's probably Vancouver) would skyrocket!

To be truthful, these days- viruses aside, I'm feeling a little anxious.
I'm not wishing for spring like I once did back in Ontario at this March time of year. Here on the Island it never gets cold or wintry enough to make one throw themselves to their knees at bedtime praying for an end to the season called winter. That's because here on Vancouver Island crocuses have already bloomed and daffodils are still blooming. Even the cherry blossoms are out on many trees.

One thing I can tell you, these days is I'd like to be a bit further away from my fellow person.
Again, not because of the fear of a viral flu or dying. No, I am tired of living so close to some neighbours. You see, Island land is precious and developers shove houses close beside, behind, in front of and almost on top of other houses.
One sneezes and one's neighbour says "Bless You"!

Have you ever noticed when one lives close, one begins to notice that "nutters" inhabit our planet? Oh, not the kind we see on the telly or online in the news, these are simple, everyday, neighbourhood "nutters" who just live on our streets.

You may find yourself using endearing words such as asshole, the jerk across the street, the rednecks next door or similar terms.You know, people who park on their front lawns, turn their music up loud, collect garbage, hide in garages to watch the neighbourhood or keep recycle bins handy- right at their front door so we all have to look at them.

We had "nutters" back in Ontario and we have a couple here- "Island Nutters" and yes the "nutter" in question would know of whom I speak. I think most "nutters"...
Look I'm tired of  typing quotations lets just call them NU's...
Most NU's know they have a few screws loose. They just don't quite fit in with the rest of us yet they insist on living close to us.

They like to make living near them a chore and there's no known cure.
They rub on our nerves and we can do little in return to make them disappear.
Even Gawd has no time for NU's and I hear if you ask in prayer for an NU to meet some magical fate you'll end up being the one denied entry into Heaven- at least I imagine that's what Oral Roberts would have said as he asked listeners to lay their hands across the top of their old, black Western Electric with the softly-lit dial.
Christ, who names their kid "Oral" anyway?

If you try to talk to an NU they refuse to make eye contact but rather spin on their shaky heels and slink away into their dark, dank cavern of existence- usually sucking on a fag while shouting incomprehensible English words and phrases.
It's a challenge to live nearby.

Is there a cure for an NU's you ask?
Only one I can think...
A For Sale sign on one's lawn. 
Yours- not the NU's.

Somewhere there must be a neighbourhood with nice people free of NU's.
Maybe an Island out in the Pacific.
I thought we had found one...

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