The Ballads Of Mister Rhodes

It’s been a while since something really inspired these cogs into whirring. These days it's just easier to hit the gym for the two hours of each day I set aside to feeling alive. Eat and then nap the whole afternoon away before plugging into some brain-draining episodicals until I feel as if I’ve imbibed enough dribble to either make a good serial killer or be psychologically equipped to catch one. I was becoming one of you! But now this! A welcome reminder of the importance of distance. (A portrait of herd-mentality in 2020) I wasn’t sure how to start, so I’ve decided on the screwdriver inserted right in to the reader’s liver with the angry precision of someone who just realized they had their drink spiked. Something that pitches my tent over here and leaves the rest of the field empty, bar a few begrudgingly discarded tins of beans.   “Black lives matter when a white cop kneels across a black guy’s throat for 9 minutes.”  I thought I’d give that sentence so...

“He who is infected with the fear of illness, is already infected with the disease of fear.” - Michel de Montaigne -  Ok. Well. Yes. This is an opinion piece. Not that the WiFi is working. Not that the WiFi will be working anywhere in the world, ever again, by the time I finish writing this. And, even if it was, everyone will have chained themselves and their families to the radiators of their stockpiled maisonettes.  It will be the same stupidity that ate it all up and got them there in the first place, that leaves all the electronic devices over on the couch, out of reach. Who would have thought that Dean fucking Koontz would end up being the next George Orwell? So, this Coronavirus epidemic is really happening. I mean, it’s not really happening. Not like they say it’s happening, but its definitely fucking happening. I even took a job as a freelance writer, hence the slightly new format. ‘Take what they teach you.’ Apparently, I can do things to actually ma...