(or, Churchill sends Hitler a frowny-face)
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Here in America, it’s been a bizarre, endless summer. Maybe so, too, in other countries, but I can’t confirm that because I can’t find an a commercial flight with seats spaced six feet apart.

The Chinese virus continues to haunt, and the blame-slinging is like some meth lab-infested trailer park paintball weekend that got out of control. President Trump has been accused of doing way too much, and far too little, both too soon and too late, simultaneously. (Not even Christopher Lloyd’s DeLorean was that nimble.)

And since being savaged by a Mexican beer bat virus from China wasn’t enough, there are also new waves of unrest by perpetually annoyed liberals. The selective outrage set have coined a new name for themselves. They like to be thought of as being “woke,” as in “omg we’re like all woke up and stuff lol.”

I don’t think “WOKE” is an acronym for anything, though there are candidates:

• We Oughta Kancel Everything
• We’ll Occupy Kansas, Eventually
• Why’s Oprah Keep Eating?

Woke people parade something called “virtue signaling,” which is a sixty-four dollar word for pharisee, confirmed by their proud boast, “I am so dedicated to this cause that I posted several smiley faces. How’s that for making a difference!”

Another tricky bit during these Endless Summer Games has been trying to keep up with all the nebulous, shifting, seesawing survival rules, strictly enforced (or randomly, or occasionally, or not really) by the Powers That Be (Tower of Power, Tyrone Power, and Fight the Power).

It seems like every time you turn on the news, because you forget your vow to not turn on the news, there’s a new mandate, or guideline, or fine-carrying restriction. Wear a mask, or pay a fine. Fail to facebook-like this week’s politically-appropriate anti-everything activists, and be prepared for a bath of frowny-faces. Live free and re-tweet, or die. Butter the bagel towards your neck, and such a look your Mom will give you.

One of the more bizarre things the Powers have decided is that liquor stores are “essential” … but bars are not … and churches are apparently downright fatal. At the same time, the P That B insist that wearing a mask is essential when you enter an essential liquor store. Wow, how times have changed. Back in the day, wearing a mask to a liquor store was a sure way to become what was known as “breaking news.”

Okay. Let’s have some pandemic fun. When you do dutifully don your pandemic mask and visit a liquor store…

…once you grab your hooch and get to the checkout counter, try this: raise your head, stare at the clerk, and say, “Stand here.” (just to see their response)

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Healthcare Sidebar: You should note that, at this point, depending on which of the fifty States you’re in, you might get shot dead. If not, feel free to continue reading.
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And then, after the counter clerk tries to comply and stands … somewhere … look down, sigh, and say, “No … here.” Don’t point or anything … let them figure it out.

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Pandemic Prank Sidebar: You can keep this up for hours.
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So. Assuming you’re back at home and not dead, let’s continue. As of this week, here are the new, official, sanctioned New Normal’s Three R’s:

• Wear a mask
• Wash your hands
• Watch your distance

Don’t ask me why the new Three R’s each start with a W. These are your tax dollars at work, so shut up and be proud.

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Political Sidebar: In the political news, I hear that ubiquitous ‘My Pillow’ guy plans to run for public office. Apparently, he’s tired of just waiting for you to buy his pillow; he intends to make it a law.

“I personally guarantee it’ll be the most comfortable pillow you ever had to buy due to legislative fiat!” (Mask not included)

For some reason, My Pillow Guy pronounces “Wash your hands” as “Warsh your hands.” Maybe he inhaled too much of that patented fill he’s always on about. But he does not say “Wartch your distance.” Go figure. Whartever.
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And if all the pin the tail on the pandemic rule-shifting wasn’t bad enough for this bad enough summer, we’re also having to deal with:

• Murder hornets (that don’t wear masks)
• Massive looting (both with and without masks)
• An incoming Saharan Desert dust storm the size of – to use the technical term — Godzilla
• New and improved waves of revisionist history (because apparently there’s a granite mountain somewhere in South Dakota that hates Minnesota).

Another scene in this madcap summer’s stage play has been an attempt to rename military bases, because science shows that nothing cures a bigot’s bigotry like renaming real estate. But here’s what I’ve not heard: change the names of all those offensive military bases to … what?

Let me try and help:

• Fort Benning > Fort Annette Bening
• Fort Hill > Fort Dale
• Fort Lee > Fort Way
• Fort Bragg > Fort Self-Deprecation
• Fort Hood > Fort Hoodie
• Fort Rucker > Fort Darius
• Fort Gordon > Fort Batman
• Fort Pickett > Fort Chain-link
• Fort Robert E Lee > Fort Virgil (thanks, The Band)
• Fort Polk > Fort Salad Annie
• Camp Beauregard > No, that’s too cool to change

Welcome to woke.

But hold the phone. Now, there’s EXTRA woke! And they have a facebook page and everything, so you know they’re legit smiley face smiley face smiley face smiley face smiley face.

New!
Extra Woke!
Now with more outrage!
Disorder now!

But wait – There’s Less!