Hurrah! I wish to add my voice to N. Chaim Weiske’s rebuttal of Roger Jackson’s recent propaganda piece (“Give me liberty, or give me death,” March 10 Gazette). I too, have felt constricted by technocrats insisting we wear masks, social distance, lockdown, etc., and I figuratively tear off my own non-medical-grade mask in support of Mr. Weiske and stamp on it a few times. Indeed, that letter has given me food for thought about other areas of my life where technocrats trample my personal freedoms.
For example: Pants. I don’t like ‘em. Do you? They’re constricting, and they bunch up in delicate places. Why should big brother dictate that I wear anything at all from the waist down? Aaah. I feel freer already, although my dog-walking neighbor is giving me funny looks through my front window.
And that silly regulation about not peeing in swimming pools simply because it’s conducive to “public health?” Bah! I refuse to constrict my bladder, or for that matter, any sphincter in my body just because the state (I’m looking at you, Fountain Park) insists on bloating the role of government simply to limit our urinary rights. Panic all you want, those of you swimming near me. Bodies are not piling up on deck. Leastways not that I can see, given the murky soup I’m swimming in right now.
I’m also tearing out my home’s smoke detectors. Honestly, they don’t do a thing for my décor, and they make the most awful screech when they’re triggered. Fire, shmire. Panic all you want, but I’ve never seen a house spontaneously ignite in my neighborhood. Not even that of the dog-walking neighbour who’s probably this minute lighting a cigarette with trembling wrist to calm herself down, given what she just witnessed through my front window.
Let’s let the healthy majority accept the inherent risks of life and give a well-needed boost to those struggling Alberta industries. Like mortuaries, for instance.
E. Bradford, St. Albert
