Covid-19 abets our post-truth era

The days inch by, turning into weeks, turning into months. We social distance in our homes, and governments—federal, provincial & municipal—issue prohibitions backed up by the scientific advice du jour. Their advice changes by the day, by the week, by the month, but they declare it unassailable. With truth being fluid as part of the progressive mantra, our leftie governments carry on through the looking glass with truth & money growing on trees.

“We’re all in this together,” they intone, with the very variety of homes—from palatial mansions set in manicured grounds to tiny basement suites with no outdoor space attached—putting the lie to that fatuity. “Stay home,” they command, and then fly off to wherever they please because the stress of their secure jobs to too much to bear without a break. “Don’t visit your family for the holiday,” they faux-sadly order, and then they travel near & far to spend time with their families—and rub salt in our real sadness by posting pictures on social media to share their joyous reunions.

It’s pathetic, it’s nauseating, it’s maddening, as we continue to live through masks & windows.

Through masks & windows

Life is confined, but reading still liberates.

So I open the National Post, the Canadian newspaper that hasn’t succumbed completely to the progressive virus—a virus far more virulent and deadly than Covid-19 or any of its Sars brethren—infecting mainstream media, and settle in for a good Saturday morning read. I’m greeted with their vow to return to their rational roots and push back against the woke gospel, a welcome announcement indeed, as I was beginning to despair that even the Post was spiraling down into virtue-signaling hell.

The news is the good, the bad and the ugly as usual, the columnists—Rex Murphy, Conrad Black, Father de Souza, John Robson, Barbara Kay (she’s back as part of this return to reason)—are as interesting & provocative as usual, and the financial/business comment is as insightful & informative as usual.

So far, so good.

Through masks. Then I turn to the Weekend section and am greeted with ugliness to the nth degree! I love fashion, as you know, with my last blog returning to the topic: Fashion through my ages, 1960s to 1980s. Fashion adapts, which is one of its admirable traits, but this adaptation is ugly in looks & philosophy.

These masks hide our faces from the world and erase our individuality…

…evoking the evil of cages and the threat of gas warfare
…or encasing us in anonymity and erasing us from the community
…or dressing us as an executioner or a thief in a nylon mask.

Quelle horreur! The underlying philosophy of masks is antithetical to individual life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, in short, to Western culture and its foundation in individual freedom and protection from state tyranny.

Through windows. In this world of pandemic, I am fortunate to live in a house I love, in a neighbourhood I love, and in a city I love. Even though I don’t like being confined, looking at the world through my windows offers lovely perspectives. When I open the curtains in the morning, the sun floods the bedroom with light…

…but the winter sun is low, leaving our dormant backyard in its winter shadow.
The schoolyard to the west glistens in the morning light, untouched by the children’s footsteps that will soon joyously mess it up.
An early snow has brought winter to our neighbourhood, and the serenity of the living room is mimicked by the view down the street. Soon, the road will be tracked with cars driving kids to school, the sidewalks with their scurrying feet, and the air with their piping voices. The clamour of life returns, reminding us once again why location, location, location ranks No. 1 on the house-buying list: Living across from the schoolyard for these many years has added immensely to our happiness.

Through daily life. The days flow by, with spring turning to summer turning to fall turning to winter, days that still must conform to the viral rules of wearing masks, washing hands and keeping a social distance.

So I adapt. I hate the masks, but have amassed a suite of them to match my wardrobe, so they are bearable for my short shopping excursions. I have had the windows washed, so the light floods in & invites us to watch the passing seasons. We adjusted our entertaining to preserve a sliver of social life by having dinner-for-4 in the garden a few times in August.

Our days are filled with the tasks of living—cooking & cleaning, mowing & raking—with each duly scheduled in our daytimers. For instance, after washing clothes on Friday, Saturday sees me ironing clothes in the basement while listening to my musical whim of the day—classical, country, opera, whatever.

It’s a lovely little interlude with my effort rewarded with smooth shirts, pillowcases and napkins, contributing to a pleasing appearance for the two of us, our bed and our table.

In short, we are fans of Western civilization, and willingly do the things that preserve the warp & weave of its tapestry.

Our evenings are reserved for leisure—good books, good TV series—in the privacy of the den with the shutters closed to keep the night and the world at bay.