Authoritarian Defiance Syndrome

This is really the last straw and it’s clear I must find a way to demonstrate the resolute firmness of my stance. I will not comply, cooperate, collaborate, conform, or negotiate.

To that end, I’m going to coin a new mental disorder for myself and all the other poor dear souls seriously suffering for the idiocy of this current madness sweeping global civilization.

All those with Authoritarian Defiance Syndrome please step forward. Let’s join together in our victimhood, in that, at least, we can feel a part of the in-crowd again.

The scenario that did me in was serious indeed. In hindsight, with my 2020 goggles on, breathing freely without a suffocating face diaper, I’ve rewritten this conversation in a more sincere way, closer to the way I really feel. Authenticity is so important these days, or so they keep saying. How that fits in with covering the most expressive part of the face and the fine nuances of the voice, I’ve not a clue, but that doesn’t really matter now.

I gifted myself a birthday present and I was really excited about it. I’m not a big shopper at all, but I do love learning and adventure. So I invited Hubby and a friend to join me for a plant walk at the Caddo Mounds with a well-known naturalist in our region.

I was very excited, because I already tried to go on this plant walk last year, right before a manufactured tornado in the middle of the day during one of their spiritual ceremonies leveled the place, along with miles of the surrounding forest. Needless to say, the event was canceled.

Having already paid the $50 each for the afternoon walk, I received a courtesy call for the current event: Masks required.

Of course, I cancelled, despite my intense desire to learn from this expert on the flora and fauna in fall in our region and waiting patiently already a year and a half.

Why do I refuse? ADS. That’s right: Authoritarian Defiance Syndrome. I find it absolutely impossible to bow to tyranny. It’s not just that it’s even more ridiculous to walk around the forest in a mask than it is in the city. It’s the principle. Many will have no idea what that word means and even less what it looks like in action.

Another friend suggested I write to this expert and ask for special permission to remain free of required face diaper. I considered this option, and thought, what appeal might I make for such an undeserved privilege? Why should I be able to breath and speak freely while everyone else in the group is muzzled? How selfish. After all, I know folks who’ve got infections and rashes from wearing these awful things, yet still they comply. Is my suffering on par with theirs before making such a bold gesture as expecting special privileges from the expert?

What makes me so special? I haven’t worn one yet and it’s my goal to keep it that way. But, how? My concern is accelerating. It looks like this charade is not going to let up and in fact, the tyrants look to me like they are doubling down, with great pleasure.

ADS. The harder they push, the worse my condition becomes, it’s extraordinary. The more illogical they get, the more stubborn I get. Clearly this is an adverse condition that should make it into the DSM15, or whatever number the expert psychologist collaborators of tyranny are on now.

If my condition were severe claustrophobia (in fact my case is fairly mild, relatively speaking) would I be required by the social rulers to ride in a crowded elevator everyday? Would that not seem to be a cruel punishment of a mentally handicapped individual?

Obviously it’s ridiculous on its face that masks should be required in an outdoor setting. And to pour a little salt on the wound of my ruined birthday plans, my friend is going anyway. Nice.

In the meantime, I’m practicing my routine, for the next time I have to sacrifice to the many tyrants and the hordes of worshippers who love them.

Clerk: Ma’am, you’ll need to wear a mask.
Ma’am (me): You mean a face diaper? I’m so sorry, I can’t wear one of those. I suffer from ADS.
Clerk: It’s required, ma’am.
Me: No, you see, I have an exemption from my therapist, it’s right here, Dr. Freeman, psychological condition, you see it marked right there, ADS.
Clerk: It’s not a face diaper, it’s a mask. Doctors wear them all the time, they never have any problems.
Me: Oh, but you see, that’s exactly why I didn’t become a brain surgeon. The first time I had to wear one in medical school I had an attack, that’s when I was diagnosed with claustrophobia. They didn’t know about ADS back then.
Clerk: What’s ADS? I’ve never heard of it before.
Me: Don’t worry, you will, they are popularizing new syndromes all the time. This one’s going to be really huge, my astrologer told me.
Clerk: Well I find it offensive when you call a surgical mask a face diaper.
Me: That’s because you’re not performing surgery.
Clerk: But diapers are for babies.
Me: Potato-PoTAto. Where you see a mask, I see a diaper. Can’t you see now what a serious mental condition this is?

The Window

The saying goes that where God closes the door, he opens the window.  I used to think that expression was dumb.  But then, I used to think God was just a dumb word invented by dumb folk.

Now I understand God a bit better and that expression seems apropos.  Surely in these months of our Scamdemic we’ve seen a lot of closed doors.  We could point at them all day, and I get the appeal of that, really.

Or, we could search for the windows.  They are there, no doubt, dumb expression or not.

There are ones out there opening the windows, trying to make them easier for others to find them.  I really believe that.  Even if you told me with 100% scientific evidence that no one is out there trying to open any windows, maybe even because there aren’t any windows to open, I’d insist your science was wrong. 

That means my belief is more powerful to me than anyone else’s science.  Funniest thing about that is, it also means, if you can’t reason me out of it, you can’t shame me out of it either.

And that’s a window right there.  Here’s another one:

Plandemic