The US’s Pandemic Acid Trip By Jack Grace

As we prepare for the long game here in the US, it’s hard to not feel frustrated with everyone that has put us in this situation. It is not a discussion anymore. It is an all out war over telling the truth or believing lies and building a larger grey area in between.

Having Donald Trump as the President of The United States during the corona virus pandemic is epically inconvenient; like being issued a dull, moist flintlock on your musket for The Siege Of Yorktown or holding the Union line in The Battle Of Gettysburg with only a jammed revolver. It’s not only dangerous, but also damned uncomfortable, perhaps like being stricken with relentless diarrhea in the heat of the amphibious landing on D-Day.

Yet the whole journey has been long, continually strange and surreal, with conflicting information, exacerbated by a lack of leadership, so perhaps it is closer to being heavily dosed with LSD whilst navigating the dense thickets of bamboo, underneath a triple canopy of jungle, amongst the waist high elephant grass in Vietnam for The Battle Of Hamburger Hill.

Yes, we are all deep in a jungle together.

But on this acid trip amongst the humid thicket, we are arguing about using basic equipment no less, that has been agreed to save our lives; some of our own infantry and leaders claim it ineffective or are ranting on about it robbing them of their freedom? Yes, Captain Chuck Woolery claims he knows better than our doctors and scientists.  But I just heard word…we now LITERALLY have lost our freedom to travel to just about every country in the world.

So for now, we are all lost in this jungle together, with possibly a clear way of how to get out, but we are too loaded down with casualties and soldiers wigging out. I just wish this acid would wear off already. The commander’s patchy orange make up is totally freaking the men out. I am getting bad vibes off of that henchman general of his, the neck less one with the glasses? He keeps mumbling over and over that he doesn’t have to pay us anything and he looks and moves EXACTLY LIKE A TURTLE!

I’ve got a bad feeling about this. You see it’s about to get dark and buggy and I’m pretty sure we haven’t even peaked yet. I fear the enemy is going to have a field day with us in the dark. I’d radio for help but quite honestly under these circumstances, I fear there is no one I can trust. I think we should start concerning ourselves with the chain of supplies. They are beginning to look bleak for the infantry. You know the story…while the generals eat juicy porterhouse steaks and smoke the finest rolled Cuban cigars on fine linen tablecloths.

Ok perhaps now I can’t recall where reality begins and how this analogy began. I am running to get out of the jungle.  I am almost out of supplies. I am asking for help out there if you can hear me, signal is getting weak…