By Matthew Delaney
Editor’s note: The opinions expressed here are those of the authors. View more opinion on ScoonTV.
It’s such a curious time for a war to sprout up, isn’t it?
You could hear a symphony of knuckles being cracked by the pandemic’s invisible class of parents, business owners, and anyone who missed a funeral as they all prepared to have a little chat with our elites about how Covid-19 was handled.
Canada’s Royal Mounted Police trampling an elderly disabled woman involved with the trucker convoy, and Prime Minister Justin Trudeau freezing bank accounts based on political activity, made it painfully clear that Covid policies were designed to control you, not the virus’ spread. So, it was time for our big wigs to explain themselves.
But mere hours after Trudeau rescinded the authoritarian Emergencies Act, another authoritarian in Russia’s Vladimir Putin launched his invasion into Ukraine. Suddenly, Covid was out of the news and our minds.
Frontline healthcare workers were swapped out for Ukraine’s female frontline soldiers. Ukraine’s Volodymyr Zelenskyy replaced Dr. Anthony Fauci, right down to the weird sexual interest in both. The debate over vaccine mandates was usurped by the debate to implement a “no fly” zone. The threat of a nuclear attack lurks constantly too, just like the threat of Covid always has. The only thing we’re missing is some kind of mask-equivalent we could wear to stop World War III from happening…
The fog of war has provided great cover for janitors to clean up Covid’s mess. On Feb. 28, The CDC quietly changed the community transmission guidelines that influenced school closures. Now, a county that was previously in “danger” is “safe.” Some state health departments are revising down their Covid death counts after they included people who had previously recovered from the virus and died up to a year later for other reasons. Just last week, a lawsuit forced the FDA to release documents about Pfizer’s clinical trial of its Covid vaccine, which highlighted a list of over 1,200 side effects, including cardiac arrest, epilepsy, and male infertility.
Like clockwork, a new crisis becomes mouthwash for an old crisis.
Remember: Covid-19 became a thing because Democrats failed to impeach Donald Trump over his alleged quid pro quo call with Ukraine. That phone call only became a controversy when a “whistleblower” came forward one day after Robert Mueller told Congress that Trump did not have Russia interfere in the 2016 election on his behalf.
Russiagate was started to cover for the fact that partisan opposition research convinced our intelligence community to spy on a private citizen. That was done because the heads of intelligence agencies were so brazen under Obama that getting Hillary Clinton elected was the best way to ward off any suspicion of a Deep State.
Spotting the manipulative ends behind a crisis is easy when you don’t have a political dog in the fight. But beyond the red-vs.-blue considerations, the state of crisis has become an odd source of comfort for us. Well, at least some of us.
Contrary to popular belief, a crisis is not random and unfortunate like a natural disaster. They’re powered by our participation. We agree that there’s something to panic about and that something needs to be done. Trump was our crisis for four years, then Covid, and now we’re onto Ukraine. Everyone has opinions on these things because they’ve been central parts of our lives for half a decade.
What we’re really doing is bonding. The understanding that there is some crisis out there, whether it’s one you believe in yourself, or are just aware that other people believe it’s taking place, is a shared prism we see the world through. It may be the last thing we all agree on that is real.
Reality is obviously a good thing. But these crises aren’t real as much as they are a corral for our perceptions. Elites contrive a shared experience by holding everyone’s attention hostage. Most of us either ignore or ridicule the current “crisis,” but an impassioned minority thoroughly enjoy the cycle we’re stuck in and provide the seal-claps to egg it on. I think Dr. Keith Lee’s line from his 2007 book, “Addicted to Chaos: The Journey from Extreme to Serene” sums up those people perfectly:
“In a culture where the ‘extreme theme’ has become the norm, people are increasingly seduced into believing that intensity equals being alive. When that happens, the mind becomes wired for drama and the soul is starved of meaningful purpose. This type of life may produce heart-pounding excitement, but the absence of this addictive energy can bring about withdrawal, fear, and restlessness that is unbearable.”
Codependence strikes again. Our elites need crises to constantly distract from their previous failures. An indulgent minority is happy to play along because a crisis takes the pain of their own degradation away. Like any addiction, you need to up the dosage for it to keep you hooked. Before, all it took were some mean tweets to get our crisis fix. Now somehow World War III doesn’t feel like it hits hard enough.
It’s a shame we’re so lost in the sauce of our “drug” problem because it’s preventing us from asking an important question: Is freedom now a privilege?
Covid sure made it feel that way. When Blacks Lives Matter protests and the Met Gala were viewed as “Covid-safe,” but schools and churches were hotbeds of disease, it’s hard to disassociate virus protocol from political loyalty to liberal pet causes. If your right to personal freedom is contingent on how much it serves liberal elites, then you’re not free.
The war has been a fortuitous detour from that conversation for our ruling class. But there is good news for us — there are only so many crisis junkies left. A growing majority of people have gotten clean from the constant panic and are acting as a counterweight to the escalating tensions with Russia.
Let’s hope this invisible class gets to press our elites about what they think of freedom, because we won’t want to see what it’ll take for the junkies to get high next time around.
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