The New Normal

Is it going to make sense if we’re all barking mad?

Robert Cormack
Freethinkr

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Courtesy of Pixabay

You can’t be a real country unless you have a beer and an airline.” Frank Zappa

As the world deals with pandemics, hurricanes, floods, riots, and political upheaval, we’re told the world must embrace a “new normal.”

That’s all well and good if you’re normal. But what if you’re not?

What if you’re barking mad?

Let’s face it, if this pandemic has shown us anything, it’s that America is full of barking mad individuals. They’re everywhere, and they’re not going to stop being barking mad just because we call something the “new normal.”

If anything, they’ll rise to the surface, a slightly more aware, more intense version than, say, Donald Trump, Steve Bannon, or Tucker Carlson.

I think it’s safe to say America is very much in the weeds.

These people are determined to live their lives the way they want, which is a constitutional right, and they know their rights, as long as they don’t have to go past the first two amendments. Then they’re in the weeds.

I think it’s safe to say America is very much in the weeds.

Take the man in North Carolina who walked into a Subway restaurant carrying a rocket launcher, shotgun, and two pistols. He was part of a movement protesting the government’s stay-at-home order.

I guess if you’ve got a rocket launcher, you can protest anything, even a pandemic that’s taken more lives than rocket launchers.

You can’t use that kind of logic on these people, though, especially at Subway. They’re hungry, and judging from the girth of individuals like Steve Bannon, you don’t stand between a man and his sandwich.

Conspiracy theorists point out that the “new normal” will no doubt make the carrying of rocket launchers illegal, meaning our North Carolinian friend won’t be able to defend himself.

Let’s face it, America was built on the notion that each individual should have the same weaponry as any crazy on the street. Take that away and what’s the point of going to Subway?

We take exception to anyone getting killed while we’re worrying about our own lives.

The “new normal,” in other words, is going to face resistance, no matter what form it takes. The current riots over a Black man being murdered by three white men are only symptomatic. We take exception to anyone getting killed while we’re worrying about our own lives.

We’ve currently lost over a million people to this pandemic, representing about one-third of all Covid deaths worldwide. We’re only a fifth of the world’s population. Either we’re terrible at pandemics or God hates Americans.

Before we start figuring out what this “new normal” is, we should start with what it isn’t. It isn’t about the betterment of society. When they say “Distancing could be around for years,” we’re talking causality. If they say “Offices may not be offices anymore,” that’s economics.

In either case, it’s not going to improve our lives.

Let’s take causality first. Suppose distancing means employees have to work from home in the future. People hate working from home. They’ve only been isolating for eighteen months, and already they’re trying to kill each other.

Optimists tend to see the new workplace as a type of utopia. Corporations will turn into a central facility coordinating employees working from home. Meetings would be held by video conferencing, hours would be regulated based on the work involved, and the camera on your computer will monitor your daily intake of Cheetos and Red Bull.

Everyone forgets that our freedoms are more tied to corporate structure than we think. What happens, for instance, if video conferencing replaces business travel? Many Americans rack up millions of travel points using their own credit cards. It’s how they take vacations.

Then there are those who think this quarantine will open our eyes to what’s important in our lives. We’ll look inward, have epiphanies, start eating spinach and kale. What this ignores is our ingrained consumerism.

The new consumerism isn’t about convenience anymore, it’s about the transference of goods across local channels, hopefully resulting in the product actually fitting someone.

We aren’t sitting around being enlightened. We’re ordering stuff online. Whatever doesn’t fit, we put back online. The new consumerism isn’t about convenience anymore, it’s about the transference of goods across local channels, hopefully resulting in the product actually fitting someone.

We’re also dealing with a “post-truth world,” what’s known as “the public burial of objective facts by an avalanche of media.” Essentially, this means information or discussions are dominated by emotions instead of facts.

Put in layman’s terms, we believe it because it feels good.

They call this “felt truth,” and politicians have relied on “felt truths” throughout this pandemic. When Trump said “This virus will go away with the warmer weather,” that was obviously bullshit. One journalist called it a “vaudevillian performance,” which really comes down to bullshit, buffoonery, and lies, all wrapped up under what looks like a squashed beehive.

Many people believe all we have are “felt truths.” The real truths are just too real, or surreal, for any of us to handle. If there’s going to be a “new normal,” will it be more or less vaudevillian?

Certainly, we’ve become vaudevillian with what’s known as “deepfake technology.” This allows someone to electronically put words in someone else’s mouth. It used to be called ventriloquism, but now it’s a digital talent requiring absolutely no talent whatsoever.

Like it or not, this is the “new normal,” folks, and it’s more about contrivance than anything else. Someone called it the “dictatorship of illusion,” meaning it’s all vaudevillian.

After all, we’ve still got packages from Amazon coming, and the line-ups at Home Sense aren’t that bad if you bring a lunch and possibly a catheter.

Maybe it’s for the best since we’re not giving up Home Sense or Red Bull any time soon. It’s not like we’re all barking mad, mistaking rocket launchers for civil liberties, but we don’t want our rights trampled either.

After all, we’ve still got packages from Amazon coming, and the line-ups at Home Sense aren’t that bad if you bring a lunch and possibly a catheter.

Earlier this week, business associations across America lauded President Biden for making a concerted effort to clear container traffic at ports. Now, according to Walmart, the shelves are full, and the president has done something right for a change. Teddy bears are on sale.

This is good because the economy only survives on consumption. We need teddy bears because we’re essentially addicted to anything warm and fuzzy. As long as we have that, the world and its disasters can be tolerated, and we can continue watching Hallmark movies and drinking Red Bull because it gives us “wings.”

We’re adjusting, in other words, and whether it’s online shopping, working from home, or carrying a rocket launcher, we still have a democracy. Protests prove that. So does rejecting sound medical evidence that pandemics don’t go away with warmer weather.

We’re still going to see “our babies,” and we’re still going to go to Subway. It’s our constitutional right to do all three.

So, call it the “new normal” if you like, but the fact that airlines are reporting more air travel than before the pandemic suggests we don’t care what’s “new normal.” We’re still going to live our lives and face the consequences as they come along. We’re still going to see “our babies,” and we’re still going to go to Subway. It’s our constitutional right to do all three.

Maybe we’re all barking mad. Or maybe we’re vaudevillian.

Who’s to say we’re not? And who’s to say it’ll make any difference?

Robert Cormack is a satirist, novelist, and blogger. His first novel “You Can Lead a Horse to Water (But You Can’t Make It Scuba Dive)” is available online and at most major bookstores. Check out Robert’s other articles and stories (absolutely free) at robertcormack.net

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Robert Cormack
Freethinkr

I did a poor imitation of Don Draper for 40 years before writing my first novel. I'm currently in the final stages of a children's book. Lucky me.