AN INTERVIEW WITH THE JACKDAW OF UNREASON
Our old friend the Jackdaw of Unreason flew in from the west to talk about the new masked society.
He was interviewed by our Central Park correspondent near the East Meadow at Fifth Avenue and 97th Street. The reporter was wearing a mandated face mask.
REPORTER: Welcome Jackdaw, thanks for dropping by — oh, er, I hate to point out the obvious, but you’re not wearing a mask.
JACKDAW: Damn face masks! Do you know how many I’ve been through? Every time I put one on, my beak rips a hole in it.
REPORTER: I can see that would be a problem. Okay, we’ll keep our eyes peeled for the Covid cops.
NO END IN SIGHT
JACKDAW: This mask law is turning society into an episode of The Twilight Zone. Imagine if you will an entire population that must always cover their faces. A guy can’t even meet a girl or a girl meet a guy in a public place anymore because they don’t know what each other looks like. A guy might have nice hair and smiling eyes but a cruel mouth. And vice versa.
REPORTER: Do do see any end to the face mask rule, Jackdaw, and all the other restrictions?
JACKDAW: I do not. I think it’s just going to get worse. Politicians are turning all of society into a miserable unhappy existence of isolation and loneliness — and in many cases, suicide.
REPORTER: You paint a very bleak picture, Jackdaw— Oh-oh, here comes a Covid cop. You could get arrested for not wearing a mask. You better take off.
JACKDAW: On my way. We’ll finish this another time.
The jackdaw flies off. A cop wearing a face shield comes over.
COP: I saw that. That bird wasn’t wearing a mask. You may have been exposed. I’ll have to take you in — you’re going into quarantine.
REPORTER: I’m wearing a mask, for god sake!
COP: Haven’t you heard? You gotta wear a face shield now. The virus can get in through the eyes — aren’t you keeping up on this stuff?
REPORTER: Of course, up to a point, but the eye thing is pushing it. What’s next? Hazmat suits?
COP: You heard, huh? Okay, let’s go.
REPORTER [into cell phone as the cop leads him away]: Hey, chief, tomorrow’s front page — Hazmat suits!