Us Kiwis have finally solved the age-old mystery that even confused the Babylonians. The answer is not 42, as some suspected, but it is because there’s a KFC on the other side. No pandemic, it seems, can keep Kiwis away from their beloved takeaways; the poor old Dodo never stood a chance, that much is obvious.
As devotees of the free market, the criminal circuit has got wind of this demand and under-supply of KFC and although it is possibly almost as harmful as drugs it may even be profitable enough to run the risk of being caught at a border check-point with a car boot full of KFC. We can be sure that because of this major crackdown of the black market supply chain the NZ Police will enjoy in increase in funding in Budget-2022, which should be aptly labelled the KFC Budget 2022 after the Wellbeing Budget 2021.
Please make no mistake, the malcontents are only interested in making money and profits. They’ll try to get their unwitting victims hooked and then addicted to Class A junk food from E-grade outlets. Bring back Peter Dunne, I say, and get junk food testing in place ASAP, especially of synthetic junk food so that the consumers at least know what they’re eating and don’t get unexpected food poisoning.
I have to admit that I feel sorry for the chicken because if was fairly safely cooped up in its bubble. However, there are forces at work that we all should fear. For example, the Leader of the main Death Squad in NZ has declared that ICU beds are the way to National salvation. I don’t know about you, but I prefer my own bed at home, partly because there’s a much higher chance that I will wake up still alive the next morning; I take a bad hangover or morning mood over Covid death any day. In any case, the quasi-hypocritical and pseudo-obese Leader of the main Death Squad may want to suggest extra ICU beds in South Auckland where they will be needed most because of larger proportion of Māori and Pasifika people living there. So, Talofa! We recognise authentic kindness from the heart when we can see the eyebrows.
The Government is doing a 13-dimensional juggling act on a high rope without a political safety net. One slight misstep and it could be all over. The pundits and pollsters below are barking and drooling below in anticipation of fresh fodder for their nefarious blog sites. Sampling their drool and testing their saliva might reveal the presence of nasty underlying attitudes towards others who are not as fortunate as they are or that they are as crazy as an oily bat out of hell, no offence to Meat Loaf.
According to some who cannot tell the difference between elimination and ejaculation, Government has all but eliminated the elimination strategy. The irony is that Government actually never eliminated a thing, it just showed a way to the Team of Five Million on how to do it. And they went for it and came out on top of the World. The current Delta dragon is harder to slay, but Government believes that the A-Team can do it again, although the whispering B-grade voices have become louder, more numerous, and more desperate, teaming up with a Groundswell of deniers, unbelievers, and self-anointed false prophets – the irony is immense. The conviction of the A-Team is under siege and the lure of KFC is strong. There’s no try; do or do not.
We must not despair, we must not judge, but we must do our bit in this drama for which there’s no playbook and no rulebook; we are building the plane as we are trying to keep it in the air although we can learn, but not copy or imitate, from some crashes overseas. If we make the right choices chances are that we can all enjoy our KFC by Christmas with friends and family.
This should give me enough time to book in a complete makeover because I have let standards slip somewhat in lockdown (and before …) and I don’t pretend to keep up the appearances no longer. I am starting to look and feel profoundly Palaeolithic and it is starting to scare me – I can’t even see my eyebrows anymore in the mirror – and nowadays I only use audio for those never-ending Teams and Zoom meetings because a black box with my name on their screens is easier on the eye, I reckon.
We are told that one of the right choices we can make right now is to get jabbed with a very fine needle containing 0.3 mL of a watery salty solution with a bit of fat (lipids) and sugar (sucrose) and containing 30 micrograms of the key ingredient called messenger RNA (mRNA), which is 15 times less than the weight of an unfed female flea.
Once inside our own cells, the mRNA gets read by the cells to make the spike protein that elicits the immune response; the message (mRNA) is destructed after a short time, as is the case with all mRNA. It is a nifty way to prime to body against any future invasions of the real virus. However, as always, prevention is better than cure and we are also told that personal hygiene, social distancing, and wearing mask protection are effective measures to keep the villainous virus out.
Unfortunately, for me personally, there is no meaningful difference between Lockdown Level 4 and Restrict Level 3. Even Reduce Level 2 is no picnic in the park for me either, but it is not all about me, is it? If Kiwis want to eat their KFC in the park then I’ll do my bit to make that possible. It is that simple.
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