Backpackers And Other Vermin.

I'm getting really enthused about Covid-19, the coronavirus. I'm even thinking of friending it on social media. It's bound to be on there by now. I want, no I need, Covid-19 to be rampaging across the UK by the summer. Hopefully after mutating into something a lot more deadly. At 3%, the mortality rate sucks. Here's hoping it's at least up into double digits by June. Twenty or thirty thousand cases should do the trick. It's not that I want people to die. They're all going to do that eventually anyway. In the great scheme of things dying today or in a hundred years time makes no meaningful difference. I want the whole of the UK quarantined by Midsummers Day. Then they'll have to cancel Glastonbury Festival. Along with all the other summer festivals and every social gathering of any size. If it does happen I know there's a strong possibility I will actually come. TRNSMT, another fucking festival, will be out of the question as well. All those disappointed music fans (cunts) whining about it will give me a hard on I promise. In Italy right now people in stores have to maintain a distance of at least 1 meter between them. I can't fucking wait. The suspense is killing me. I'm like a five year old the night before Christmas. There are dozens of festivals and other events all over the place. All of them will be banned. The only way it could get any better would be if Covid-19 was 100% fatal to backpackers and all those who post their travels on Instagram. Look here's a beautiful place come and fuck it up along with all the other cunts who are going to swarm it because of a pretty picture on social media.

(The copyright to this image is the property of Clemson University.)

I can't help it. I'm the eternal optimist as far as things like this are concerned. You remember that tsunami in 2004? Well while others were mourning the sad deaths of all those people, I was looking on the bright side. I figure that well over 1,000 fat, middle aged, white pedophiles had to have been removed from the planet. Hopefully way more than that met their maker. Or should I say, are burning in hell. If you read the papers about these tragedies you'll never see a story about anyone that people are delighted to see the back of. It's as though being a despicable piece of dog excrement guarantees you won't die in a massive tragedy. Every single person who expires is a wonderful human who lit up a room as soon as they entered it. Bullshit.

I think we should all be giving mother nature and fate a helping hand. Next time there's a massive volcanic eruption, let's empty the prisons and lob all the rapists and pedophiles in. Burn the fuckers. I'd make it a competitive sport. Because I'm sick to death of being made to feel ashamed of being a man. I'm using the word man in its loosest sense there. They aren't men. They barely qualify as pond scum. I think it would make natural disasters a lot more fun. Cheer up the survivors and bring a smile to the faces of those who have lost loved ones. Thanks to their loss we can dispose of human garbage on an industrial scale.

If it looks like I'm equating festival goers and backpackers to sex offenders, that's because I am. They are all equally guilty of being oxygen thieves. You get 2 of any one type of these subhumans together and your whole day is fucked. They meet, they instantly bond at some bacterial level. Talking about the one subject that links them together. They'll go on and on to the exclusion of everyone else. Reminiscing about their "adventure". They say travel broadens the mind. Well fuck me backpackers must have minds that are narrower than the tip of a well sharpened pencil. It's the same story they tell to every other backpacker they meet and anyone else who's unfortunate enough to be within 6 feet of them. So I'm all in favor of Covid-19. Especially if every backpacker who returns to the country has to spend several months in quarantine. That'll be 2 things they have in common. And being stuck in a locked room for at least 90 days is far more interesting than backpacking.