Midnight Meme Of The Day!

by Noah

People sure act funny. Ever since Jaws, when we go to the beach we keep an eye out for a cruising fin piercing the water surface lest we might be the one that gets pierced. I'm always darkly amused by those periodic overhead shots we see of beaches that show a dozen or so sharks just a few yards further out than the blissfully unaware bathers, but the chances of you getting eaten by a shark at the beach seem to be almost as remote as being struck by lightening. Then there's the fact that we go out of our way to also protect ourselves from too much sun with massive amounts of sunscreen, even wisely putting on a shirt and hat if we start to burn. Some of us even consider a future possibility of basil cell carcinomas or melanoma and go so far as to bring a gigantic beach umbrella.

But now we are in the Trump-warped reality of 2020: People now protest against efforts to keep them healthy and alive. They even wave bigly guns in the air like crazed Middle Eastern terrorists. In at least one case so far, a Michigan man killed a store security guard over a requirement to wear a safety mask. When it comes to the increasingly likely chance of catching a lethal virus, a lot of people, way too many people, are acting like they just can't wait to get sick and maybe even die. They rush to the beach and strip down to mingle with a crowd and the virus. This is Darwin Award stuff! They run to the beach almost as if to say to the coronavirus, "Pick me! Pick me!"

The danger could not be more publicized. Even when people are told the beach is closed for obvious reasons, off they go. "Embrace the virus!" If our current reality was a 1950's science fiction movie and you could actually physically see the virus like it was The Blob or a giant radioactive spider, you'd see crowds of screaming beachgoers running away from the beaches as fast as their scantily clad bods could take them. Maybe the key is to just set up speaker systems along our beaches and pipe in some eerie, menacing theremin music. Better yet, I wish I could make blow-up beachballs of various sizes that looked just like the coronavirus, spikes and all. I'd fly over the beaches and drop them down on the beachgoers by the thousands as a bit of theater. It wouldn't matter to the braindead, though. No message received. In fact, if I sold my special, custom virus beachballs at the beaches, online, or on TV, I'd make a fortune. They'd sell out faster than toilet paper.